


Summer of '99

by LanderAvenue



Series: The Seasons that Changed Us [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Albert thinks he's a distinguished gay but he's a disaster gay, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur thinks he's a disaster bi and he's right, Arthur's POV, Bisexual Arthur Morgan, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Complete, Eventual Romance, Except for Chapter 19, Friends to Lovers, I'm Not Writing Smut, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Spoilers, TB? I don't know her, Use your imagination, gets hella domestic towards the end, third person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:54:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 25
Words: 131,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23518780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LanderAvenue/pseuds/LanderAvenue
Summary: Thankful to finally be out of the Ambarino mountains and more than ready to put the botched Blackwater job behind him, Arthur finds himself striking an unlikely new friendship with a certain wildlife photographer who seems to be a magnet for bad luck.
Relationships: Albert Mason & Mary Linton, Albert Mason/Arthur Morgan, Arthur Morgan & Charles Smith, John Marston & Arthur Morgan, Sadie Adler & Arthur Morgan
Series: The Seasons that Changed Us [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1817713
Comments: 279
Kudos: 269





	1. Arcadia for Alligators

**Author's Note:**

> Your boy's been listening to too much Orville Peck lately while playing RDR2 so I got gay cowboys on the mind. This fic starts off during Chapter 2 with Arthur dragging his feet with the main story quests and doing all the side missions first. I've got about half the overall work written at this point, but I think I'll just post one chapter a week to keep some semblance of a regular posting schedule.
> 
> *UPDATE*- This work is now complete. If you see any typos, don’t hesitate to point them out to me; I’m not above being corrected if there’s something I missed.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur runs into Albert in the swamps and they have some fun in a boat. They grab drinks and chat afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE 8/15/2020 - Since I'm currently still writing Autumn of '04, which heavily references this work, I realized that there may be some people who are coming back to read this one for the first time. And coming back to re-read it myself, there are a lot of parts that feel kind of weak to me, especially in the earlier chapters where I was still finding my footing vis-a-vis writing. I'll be revisiting some of these earlier chapters and doing some housekeeping, cleaning up typos and that weird AO3-specific thing where italicized words sometimes look weird next to a comma or quotation mark, etc. The overall content will still be the same and nothing plot-relevant will be changing, so much as I'll be bringing them up to the current standard that I expect my writing to be at now. I'll include update notes in the beginning notes of each chapter as I get to them.

This stretch of Lemoyne just north of the city was brutal in the summer heat. Between the humidity, the mosquitoes and the smells of the swamp, Arthur didn't know if this was better or worse than Saint Denis.

He let Ivy go slowly at her own pace. No need to push her to normal riding speed after the morning she had. At least at this gait Arthur could keep aware of his surroundings better and avoid running into any more Lemoyne Raiders if it could be helped. When he left camp a few days ago he had no intention of ending up this far south, and was already resigning himself to the fact that the rest of his day would be spent traveling all the way back to Horseshoe Outlook.

While scanning the road ahead a figure over to the left caught his eye; seemed to be someone hunched over and examining something on a tripod at the edge of the water. Sure enough, as they got closer Arthur could make out that straw boater hat and green vest that could only mean Albert Mason. Rolling his eyes, he steered Ivy off the road and trotted over, figuring he could spare a few minutes.

“Alright, Mr. Mason, what're we looking for today?”

Albert flinched at the interruption and turned around in time to see Arthur dismount from his horse and walk over. “Mr. Morgan! You really do seem to enjoy startling me like that,” he said with a steadying hand on his chest.

“That's half the fun of running into you,” Arthur replied as they shook hands.

“Well I'm glad you find me entertaining if nothing else. But to answer your question, today I am trying to capture the essence of the _American Alligator._ Do you know much about them?” They both looked out over the algae-coated water that almost seemed still and solid enough to walk across. On a mud bank some hundred feet away some alligators were resting in the midday sun.

“Sure. Lazy bastards most of the time, but they're faster than they look. I also know you're not gonna be seeing any of them standing all the way over here. Unless you got a big pile of meat stashed somewhere again.”

“No,” Albert chuckled, “I don't think I'll be trying that approach again. But, I came to that same realization shortly before you arrived. I did manage to find this rowboat and I was hoping to ask the owner if I could borrow it, but...”

While talking Albert had been looking around for this would-be owner only to turn back and find Arthur wordlessly loading his bags into the boat.

“We can't just take it!,” he protested.

Arthur likewise quickly scanned the landscape for himself before shrugging. “Why not? Ain't nobody else out here and we'll bring it back when we're done. Come on, I'll just row you around for a bit so you can get your pictures.”

Making sure one last time that no one was watching them, Albert decided to get in the boat before Arthur pushed off from the shore with a huff. “You make it sound so easy.”

“We're about to get up close with some monsters and you're more worried about some local hick running out of the swamps to yell at us,” Arthur mused as he leapt into the boat and took up the oars.

“After some of the encounters I've had with the people in this part of the country I think I'd prefer the company of predators.”

Arthur couldn't get a good look at what was happening behind him, but judging by how the balance of the boat shifted he assumed Albert was standing and getting his tripod and camera ready.

“I suppose this goes without saying but I really can't thank you enough for helping me again.”

“Nah, it's no problem. I was starting to get saddle-sore anyhow.” That seemed to get Albert's genuine interest, past the point of mere small talk and the formal pleasantries he often defaulted to.

“Have you been traveling much today? I'll admit, I didn't expect to run into you this far south out of the Heartlands. What brings you to Lemoyne, if you don't mind my asking?”

The truth of the matter is that Arthur had found himself on a train with a gunslinger from the old days named Billy Midnight. He just wanted to ask the guy about Jim Boy Calloway to get a quote for a book, but he started rambling on about some murder he may or may not have actually committed that he was clearly trying to drink away the memory of. After a short chase Arthur found himself having to put a bullet in the man's head in self-defense and didn't even get a damn quote out of him. Poor Ivy almost ran herself ragged trying to keep up with the train and it wasn't safe to jump off until after it slowed down and pulled into Saint Denis.

Albert didn't need to know all that.

“I uh... knew a guy who passed recently so I just wanted to pay my respects.” Not an outright lie.

“Oh. I'm very sorry to hear that.”

“Don't be, we weren't that close. It was more of a formality.” Again, technically the truth.

“Well you don't sound terribly broken up about it, so I'll have to take you at your word.”

A few minutes of silence passed between them as Albert focused on whatever he was doing with the camera behind Arthur's back. This seemed to be the only time the man wasn't talking, not that Arthur minded their conversations. If he was being honest with himself, he was growing fond of these little encounters with the photographer. It was a way for him to feel useful that didn't involve robbing or fighting or shooting people. Besides keeping a cautious eye out for any gators that might get too close to the boat, this was the calmest Arthur had allowed himself to be for several days.

_Smack_

If only there weren't so many damn mosquitoes.

With a shift in the boat's weight again Albert straightened up. “Alright, I think I'm finally ready to get started, thank you for being patient. I think I saw some movement on that bank, to your left. Would you mind taking us over there?”

* * *

They spent the better part of an hour zig-zagging across the bayou getting multiple shots of different alligators. Albert even talked Arthur into getting out of the boat and coaxing one to chase him at one point. It was silly and reckless and not a little stupid, and there were definitely more important things he could have been doing to help the gang, but in the moment Arthur didn't mind. He had been working hard to make money any way he could ever since they got down from that mountain and he'd been putting in his fair share into that safebox next to Dutch's tent. If he wanted to do something for himself for an afternoon, hadn't he earned it by now?

Arthur rowed them back to shore where Ivy was idly grazing. No one else had turned up, so whoever owned this boat wasn't around to yell at them; a small victory, Albert had called it. He jumped off the front and helped Arthur pull the boat up to beach it in the muck.

“Can't thank you enough, Mr. Morgan. I have a feeling these will be some of my best shots I've taken since coming out west.”

“You sure took enough of them,” Arthur sarcastically replied as he handed off the equipment and bags. “I forget, what are these all for? You planning on selling them or something?”

“I probably could sell some of them if I happened to find the right buyer. For the moment though I'm just focusing on building up a portfolio and hopefully having a gallery showing. If I am to raise awareness about these animals I'll have to show these images to as many people as possible. Selling the photos to private individuals seems counter-intuitive to that.”

Arthur shrugged, “Just seems like a money-making opportunity is all.”

Albert began collapsing the tripod and dissembling the camera. “I've been coasting off of savings and a few small loans. That should hold me over for another few months but I'll be sure to keep that option in mind.”

When he stood up there was a pause as the two men avoided eye contact for a moment, unwilling to part ways for whatever reason.

The photographer tried breaking the silence first, “Well I should start heading back... I'd like to get a head start on developing these new shots from today.” Arthur jerked his chin up at the other man, curious about something.

“Hey, how'd you get out here anyway? I don't see that brown horse you usually have.”

“Ah, Penny? She's stabled up today. I've been staying in a hotel just north of Saint Denis so I just walked today, it wasn't too far.”

_He walked out here?_

Arthur drew his brows together and asked, “Ain't you worried about Lemoyne Raiders?”

A puzzled look came on Albert's own face, “What are those? They sound nasty.”

Arthur couldn't help but laugh and shake his head as he turned towards Ivy. “I don't know how this country hasn't chewed you up and spit you out yet.”

“Dumb luck I suppose. _You_ also keep intervening with fate's designs for me for whatever reason.”

Arthur mounted his house and shot Albert a sly grin, “You calling me dumb, Mason?”

“Well you keep helping me without asking for anything in return. I think it's only fair I question your intelligence,” he bantered back.

Arthur pointed a finger at him and said, “Just for that, you owe me a drink.” That got a chuckle out of both of them as Albert led them back to the road that would take them back to the city.

“I suppose that's the least I could do, if you'll allow me to steal a little more of your time.”

“I don't have much else going on today.” Of course, there were things people _wanted_ him to do. Javier had been talking about hitting a homestead he had a lead on and Strauss was already asking Arthur to collect on some debts he loaned out less than a month ago. Those things could wait however; it wasn’t like he’d make it back to the Heartlands before the end of the day at this point anyway.

* * *

The late afternoon sun beat down on them once they left the tree cover of the swamps and reached the farms on the northern city limits. Albert had been talking almost nonstop since they left the boat about anything and everything from his old job in New York to how much he loved the countryside out west to his next steps and plans.

_This man can give Trelawny a run for his money, my god._

At one point a farmer at the edge of his property noticed the two men and waved at Albert, who waved back, exchanging pleasantries.

“Friend of yours?,” Arthur asked once they had continued out of earshot.

“More of an acquaintance," he explained. "That's the man who's letting me keep Penny at his stables in return for some portraits I took of his family.”

“That's all you did for him? He didn't ask you for money?”

Albert shrugged, “I offered, but he was happy enough with how the pictures came out. I've been taking portraits long enough to realize that it's not a novelty that easily fades away.”

“If people like looking at themselves so much, they should just get a mirror.” Albert made a sound signalling his disagreement.

“I think it's more than that; I think it's born out of a fear of being forgotten. Think of all the famous men from the past. We know of them because of things they did or created, but they only make up a small fraction of everyone who ever lived. The average person can't create a legacy that stands the test of time, but they _can_ sit still for a few minutes and get a picture taken to prove that they were here at one point.”

Looking down from his horse Arthur couldn't help but notice the focused look that fell over the photographers face. “You've clearly thought about this a lot.” That got a genuine laugh out of his friend.

“You'd be surprised how much free time one has working at a portrait studio...,” Albert conceded. “It's not like I had a line out the door every day. But think about it; should the worst come to pass and you died tomorrow -heaven forbid-, how would you be remembered, and by who?”

That was a question that Arthur found himself wrestling with only in the small hours of the night when he couldn't find sleep. It was something that was coming to mind more frequently ever since the Blackwater job and he wasn't sure he liked any of the answers he came up with.

“I suppose... I have a few friends who'd be sad, but there'd be more than a few fellers who'd drink to the news.”

“Oh please, Mister Morgan, I doubt someone like you has many enemies.”

“Sounds like you got the wrong impression of me then.”

Albert shook his head as the city proper came into view. “No, I think you're just too hard on yourself. Well at the very least, _I_ would be very sad to hear that you passed. And would likely find myself in the belly of a bear or some other horrible beast by the end of the following week.”

He ducked his eyes under the brim of his hat as word failed him for a moment. “Well that's mighty kind of you to say, appreciate it.”

A short while later they found themselves at the front of the hotel Albert was staying at, just where the city proper began and the dirt road gave way to cobblestone. “Let me run up to my room and drop off my equipment, this won't take long,” Albert said as he entered the Victorian-style building. Arthur waited outside and could feel the eyes of passerby on him as they pretended to go about their business. These weren't upper class city folk, but even here Arthur stood out in appearance. Sitting there in shotgun chaps, rifleman gloves, and his father's gambler's hat on top of a horse with a Lancaster repeater slung across his back he realized he probably looked like he walked out of a wild west novel.

Soon enough Albert reemerged from the building and found Arthur where he'd left him. “Alright then, shall we?”

* * *

The city, and really this whole part of the country, was still new to Arthur so he deferred to Albert to pick a place. He led them to a quiet, small bar that almost certainly was running some kind of illegal operation in the basement. If nothing else, the cooler atmosphere inside was a welcome reprieve from the humid swamp air they had spent the past two hours all but swimming through. They settled in at a small table near the entrance after dealing with the bartender. Didn’t seem like there was anywhere else to sit.

Scratching at a particularly stubborn mosquito bite on the side of his neck, Arthur muttered, “Never thought I'd see you in a place like _this.”_ Albert, for whatever reason, seemed totally at ease in the run-down bar.

“There are fancier establishments I could've taken us to, sure, but I find myself growing tired of those places of decorum. I've spent my whole life dealing with the rich, walking on eggshells around them and exchanging fake smiles.”

“Certainly none of that here,” Arthur observed. He quickly scanned the entire bar to see a low-stakes game of poker taking place in a back room and a passed out drunkard sitting against the wall opposite the bar counter. The bartender was “cleaning” a glass with the filthiest dishrag he's ever seen and he was pretty sure he caught a rat scurrying out of sight. “You're more likely to get shanked than served in a place like this though, that's why I was surprised you picked it.”

“Do I strike you as someone with a sense of self-preservation?,” he challenged sarcastically.

“No, you do not,” Arthur chuckled.

They chatted mindlessly for a few minutes, Arthur keeping an eye on the front door out of habit, but this was a slow bar and no new patrons were coming or going. Eventually Albert steered the conversation in a direction he knew would happen eventually.

“I fear I've spent so much time today talking about myself, but I confess, I don't know much about your background, Mr. Morgan.”

“Just 'Arthur' is fine by now I think,” before taking another sip of his whiskey. “Okay, shoot, whatchu wanna know?” Albert laced his fingers together on the table in front of him. He seemed to want to word this next question precisely.

“I guess... I don't imagine you have a formal 'job' in the traditional sense, but do you have a home? Or is it really just living off the land one hundred percent of the time?”

This was the part where Arthur always had to be careful when speaking to people outside the gang. Normally he would just default to one of the lies and backstories he'd made up over the years, but he didn't want to lie to Albert this time. The man seemed decent enough and it had been a while since Arthur had had a real friend outside of Dutch's influence.

“I got a group of people that I travel from place to place with. Right now we're set up outside Valentine but we've been to New Austin, up in Ambarino, all over.”

“Are these people all outdoorsmen like yourself?”

An interesting question. Charles could definitely live off the land and Hosea had taught Arthur most of the survival skills he knew. The thought of Dutch or Strauss hunched over a pile of sticks trying to start a fire in the middle of the woods at night was too ridiculous however.

“Not all of us," he said, "but everyone brings their own skills to the table. Sometimes we pick up people who are down on their luck and take 'em in for a few weeks or months. Sometimes people leave, but I've been with them for, hell..., twenty something years now?”

“Are you related to any of these people?”

Arthur scoffed more derisively than he meant to, “God, no. Not by blood anyway, but some of them may as well be family at this point.”

Albert looked down at his own glass and swirled his drink around as he processed this new information. “So you travel the country, moving from place to place, with a fluid group of people living outside of civilization, sometimes helping those down on their luck?”

At face value, that was all true. “Something like that.”

“That all sounds so...”

“Crazy? Hard to believe?,” he supplied.

Albert shook his head in protest, “No, I'd say... Well for one it sounds exactly like you, or at least my understanding of you, but also I guess 'romantic'?”

Arthur huffed and followed with, “That's not the word I'd use.”

“What would you use then? Bucolic? Idyllic? Quixotic?”

Arthur couldn't help but stare at Albert for a moment before shaking his head in concession and chuckling. Knowing where the conversation was going, Albert prompted him with, “What's so funny?”

“You! You talk like a damn book character! I didn't know people like that were real.” Albert leaned back in his chair and looked slightly downcast and Arthur wondered for a moment if he'd gone too far. His friend gave an embarrassed smile soon enough however.

“Yes, it's an old habit at this point. I've been doing it for so long I forgot how to talk to real people.”

“Relax, Mason, you ain't gotta impress me with fancy words.”

He leaned his chair back onto it's rear legs and ran a hand through his hair. “I've spent so much time rubbing elbows with high society, telling people much richer than myself, ‘Oh! How impressive your wealth is, how smart and hard working you are! No, that hat doesn’t look ridiculous at all!’ It's really sickening to look back on if I'm being honest.”

“Well, do I look like 'high society' to you?,” Arthur asked.

Albert gave him a quick glance over before replying, “No, you look like a ranch hand who’s a wannabe gunslinger thinking it's still the 1860's.”

Arthur's eyebrows shot up in surprise before a genuine laugh escaped him. “Well damn! There you go! Now that's an Albert Mason I want to get to know better.”

“I'll try to bring him out more often for you,” Albert replied before downing the rest of his drink with a smirk.

* * *

The sun was threatening to dip below the horizon by the time they left the bar and since Arthur was heading back north anyway he accompanied Albert back to the hotel, opting to lead Ivy through the city streets on foot instead of riding her. When they arrived at the front of the hotel they had been talking about their previous meeting outside Emerald Ranch, when Arthur helped Albert get a shot of a herd of wild horses.

“That photograph really did come out amazing, it looks like a Renaissance painting if you'll allow me to brag.”

“Brag away. Do you have a copy of it?”

“No, not at the moment, why?”

Arthur shrugged, “Don't know. After you gave me that print of the wolves I thought you were gonna start giving me one every time I saw you.”

As realization dawned in Albert’s eyes he replied with, “I had no idea that would interest you! I suppose it's only fair, I mean I wouldn't have gotten those shots without your help, so you could claim partial ownership. How about-” Albert abruptly stopped and shook his head.

“What's wrong?”

Smacking his forehead, “I was honestly about to ask you if you had an address I could mail them to. Must've left my critical thinking back at that bar.”

Arthur also found humor in it, but offered, “Well I know a guy who works at the Valentine post office, you can just send it there and he'll hold it for me. Next time I'm in town I can swing by and get it.”

“Seems simple enough. I'll send out the prints tomorrow.”

“Appreciate that.” With a smile he offered his hand and Albert shook it. He turned and mounted Ivy. “Take care, Mason.”

“'til next time,” Albert responded as he waved and entered the hotel.

He wouldn't make it to Horseshoe Outlook tonight, but Arthur figured he'd at least get to the Lemoyne-New Hanover border before having to stop and set up camp. The day didn't go at all how he had planned, but besides the “misunderstanding” with Billy Midnight on the train, he wasn't sure that he minded that. Albert was becoming more than just an interesting acquaintance that showed up occasionally and Arthur enjoyed spending time with someone outside the gang. Not that he didn't have friends back at camp, but it was something else entirely to have a conversation that didn't deviate into the next scheme or reminiscing on someone they'd lost.

He patted the side of Ivy's strong neck before spurring her back into motion. "Okay girl, let's go home. Yah!"


	2. "So long as it gets done"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur returns to Horseshoe Overlook and has a hard conversation with Hosea. Then Strauss give him bad news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE- This chapter was updated for minor edits on 8/16/2020

_5/30/99_

_Guess Billy Midnight never escaped his past. Guy was deranged about shooting some fella in the back or in their sleep or something. Anyway, guilt had consumed him, so like a real proper gentleman, he tried to kill me._

_Later, saw Albert Mason in the swamps. Seemed obsessed by getting eaten by alligators this time. Again, he managed to survive much more by luck than by judgment. At least he bought me a round of drinks this time._

_[Sketch of Albert with his camera in the boat.]_

* * *

As he predicted, Arthur and Ivy only made it to the edge of the Heartlands by midnight but decided was probably far enough from Lemoyne Raider territory to safely camp out for the night. Forgoing a fire, Arthur settled in a secluded area off the road and slept on his bedroll under the stars. Other times of the year it might've been too cold to be this lazy, but summer was just starting in earnest and the relative cold air was welcome relief after the stifling heat of the swamp just a few hours earlier.

He was always an early riser though, and it was simply safer to spend as little downtime as possible out in the wilderness. He woke up shortly before dawn, jotted some thoughts into his journal over a quick breakfast of canned peaches and they were on their way again a little after. It was late morning by the time he approached camp from the north, some spot the locals had referred to as Horseshoe Overlook, and Javier called out to him from his guard duty spot.

“Hey, welcome back, stranger!”

“I ain't been gone _that_ long, you ass.” He tried sounding mean, but Javier saw through the act.

“Aww, we missed you too,” he crooned sarcastically.

Arthur dismounted Ivy next to the rest of the gang's horses and thanked her with two apples. Hopefully he wouldn't have to head out again soon so she could have some time to rest. He exchanged hellos with Miss Grimshaw and Lenny as he made his way over to the lockbox next to Dutch's tent.

Sure enough, the eponymous leader of this ragtag family was there in one of his usual spots, leaning against a post and smoking his morning cigar as Arthur approached. He watched Arthur for a moment before speaking. “Welcome back, son. It's been a minute since we've last seen you.”

Arthur opened the lockbox and started rifling through his satchel, looking for the valuables he'd picked up over the past few days. “Why's everyone being so dramatic today? Y'all're acting like I'm coming back from the dead or something.”

“It's been over a week and a half." Dutch lowered his voice so only Arthur could hear him, "You know you have seniority over most of the boys and I wouldn't let anyone else leave for that long without keeping in touch.”

“‘cept John...,” Arthur muttered.

Dutch plowed right on through the comment, “So I was growing concerned that maybe you finally wizened up and decided to get out of the life when you had the chance.”

Arthur finally emptied out his satchel of all the items he wanted to donate and then added a wad of cash for good measure. He found he was unable to actually close the lockbox when he was done, and Dutch had also wordlessly noticed.

“I'm sorry Dutch, were you saying something just now?”

With a sly grin Dutch responded, “You know what? I lost my train of thought.”

“Yeah, I bet you did,” Arthur quipped as he went to go update the ledger. “So did I miss anything big while I was gone?” Dutch ashed the tip of his cigar and took a drag as he thought about it.

“Javier hit up that homestead he told you about with Lenny; that was a nice haul that definitely helped us out. Strauss has been looking for you, but that's all I can think of at the moment. We've just been keeping our heads down and hustling.”

Arthur sighed as he finished with the ledger and closed it. He understood that Strauss was an important part of their operation, and technically everything he did was legal under the law, but Arthur just didn't like being roped into the collection part of the loan business. Stealing from the rich was one thing, but taking money from people who were already desperate enough to take one of those loans didn't sit right.

“Why's he looking for me? He's got a whole camp of crooks to pick from.”

Dutch shrugged. “He prefers you for some reason. Look, I don't like his line of work either, but money is money and we need as much as we can get our hands on. Just see what he wants before he talks my ear off again?”

Arthur disagreed, but he didn't have the energy to have that conversation with Dutch again. Instead he went over to his tent and was happy to see Miss Grimshaw had kept it tidy while he was gone. Taking off his satchel and weapons he was hit with a wave of lethargy and realized just how tired he actually was from sleeping rough the past several nights. Before he knew it he had his boots kicked off and was lying back on the bed, hat covering his face. Surely he could squeeze in a quick nap before dealing with Strauss.

“Welcome back, Arthur.”

Reluctantly, he lifted the brim of his hat to see Hosea standing at the foot of the bed. “Hosea,” he grunted.

“Been wondering if you'd be coming back this time,” Hosea continued as he pushed Arthur’s legs aside to make room for himself to sit on the bed. “That little adventure of ours up in the mountains was pretty rough, I'm honestly surprised no one split off on their own once we got down from there.”

Sounding a little more defensive than he intended, “What makes you think _I'd_ be one to run off?”

“Because you had the chance," Hosea pointed out. "When you leave camp most of the time no one knows where you're going. We wouldn't even know where to start looking for you. No one else has that kind of freedom.”

“You do.”

Hosea scoffed and batted at the air with his hand, as if at the comment itself. “Please, where would I go? Besides, if I left, Dutch would actually lose what remains of his sanity.”

It was true that ever since the Blackwater job went to shit Dutch had been on edge and had been talking up “loyalty” and “faith” a lot more. Arthur thought it was all a bit much but maybe he wasn't aware of how low morale had been around camp. To be fair, he hadn't been around much.

“Don't worry, I ain't goin' nowhere,” Arthur replied before easing back into position, thinking the chat was over.

Hosea paused, but didn't move. In a quiet tone he suggested, “Maybe you should.”

Arthur also paused before slowly pushing up the brim of his hat again to look Hosea in the eyes, but said nothing.

“I'm too old to get out of the life, but you still have plenty of time ahead of you, Arthur. I'd hate for you to come this far and just end up like Davey and Jenny.”

He tried not to show it, but he felt a pang of grief at the mention of the names.

“So what, you want me to tuck my tail and run? What about everyone else?”

“You think you're the only one I'm giving this talk to?”

At this Arthur propped himself up on his shoulders, but still kept his voice down. “Do you know something I don’t?”

“I know the world is changing and our way of life is being stamped out. Remember how many rival gangs there were even just ten years ago? Now it's just us and the O'Driscolls, and there are more Pinkertons in this country every day. And on top of all that, Dutch has been slipping. I think he's been listening to Micah too much.” Arthur had noted the mentioned man's absence when he came back to camp a few minutes earlier.

“Where is that snake anyway?”

Hosea waved his hand dismissively, “Who the hell knows? He left a little after you did.”

Puzzled, Arthur asked, “What do you mean? I thought I was the only one who could leave for that long.”

“Apparently just you and Micah.”

“He hasn't even been with us for a year, why's Dutch leaning on him so much?”

Hosea shot him an exhausted look, as if he'd been having this talk with Dutch for a while now. “Your guess is as good as mine.” They were both silent for a moment, no doubt stewing in their own thoughts. Hosea patted Arthur on the leg before getting up from the bed.

“Just think about what I said, alright? And get some rest, would you? You look awful.”

Arthur forced a chuckle but his heart wasn't in it. “Sure.”

* * *

Heavy conversation aside, sleep found Arthur soon enough and it took his growling stomach to wake him up in the early evening. He fixed himself a meal and spent some time catching up with whoever was around the main fire before finally making his way over to Strauss' “office”. The older man peered over his glasses and pretended to be surprised, as if he hadn't been watching Arthur's every move since he woke up again.

“Herr Morgan, good to see you. Do you have a moment?”

Nodding, he replied, “Dutch said you wanted to see me?”

Strauss closed what he was working on and was already reaching for a new ledger book before Arthur had even responded. “I did. I have some clients I need you to pay a visit to.”

“Look, is this about that Downes loan? I haven't forgotten about it, I just haven't found myself out that way in a while. I'll go see him tomorrow.”

Strauss looked confused for a moment before regaining his memory. “Thomas Downes? Oh, don't worry about that, I had Bill collect that debt a few days ago.”

“Bill? But I thought I was your favorite goon?,” Arthur joked, feigning a wounded ego. To his surprise, Strauss also seemed to find humor in it.

“You are! Which is why I've been saving these next jobs for you; Bill nearly beat that man to death collecting that debt and that's bad for business. You have a more... _delicate_ hand with these matters.”

“If that's what you wanna call it, sure... So who are my next victims?”

“I have four new names for you,” he said as he paged to the right part of his ledger. “Chick Matthews, works at Guthrie Farm. He's a hand, I believe. Mr. Wróbel, the small holder at Painted Sky. Runs the operations there... badly. Miss Lilly Millet is a ranch maid up at Emerald Ranch. And finally Mr. Albert Mason, a nature photographer. He's staying at a hotel near Saint Denis if I remember correctly.”

Arthur's blood ran cold as he stared over Strauss’ shoulder at the page he had open. The first three names had modest debt amounts written next to them, but Albert had taken _a two hundred dollar loan._ With the painful interest rates Strauss makes his targets agree to that meant that he owed _two hundred and fifty dollars._ Granted, he didn't know Albert's financial situation, but we wagered that being a photographer wasn't an especially lucrative business.

Whatever look Arthur had on his face, Strauss didn't notice as he wrote down the names and their outstanding debts on a slip of paper he then passed to Arthur without even looking.

He cleared his throat and replied, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, “Sounds good. I'll start paying some visits tomorrow.”

Strauss lazily waved his hand and was already getting back to his previous workbook. “So long as it gets done. Thank you, Herr Morgan.”

Arthur took one last look at the slip to make sure he was reading the numbers right before folding it and slipping it in his back pocket. Just yesterday he was looking forward to making a new friend that had nothing to do with the gang and then _this_ happens. He told himself not to worry about it, knowing full well he would anyway, and tried to distract himself back by the fire, chatting with Javier and Uncle. With Albert going out into nature for his photographs, Arthur might not even find him at the hotel. Maybe Albert would catch wind of what the situation was and head back north to avoid paying.

* * *

As a show of good faith Arthur helped with some menial tasks and chores around camp in the morning. It was increasingly obvious to him that there had been plenty of talk behind his back over the past week that he was thinking about splitting from the gang, and Arthur wanted to put an end to all that. Pearson gave him a list of some ingredients he needed from the General Store and Arthur agreed to take a quick trip into Valentine to pick them up.

Trying to head back to camp however, a train had pulled into the station and was letting off passengers and cargo over several minutes. With a line of people and wagons waiting for the train to pass, which would clearly take a while, Arthur decided to make better use of his time. He hitched Ivy out front and entered the station. He walked up to the counter and got the attention of the station clerk who came over.

“Welcome back, friend. Sending something out again?” Arthur was surprised the clerk recognized him already; the gang hadn't even been set up in this new spot outside of Valentine for a full month yet.

“Nah, not today. I'm supposed to pick up a letter for a... uh, Arthur Morgan?” It was only just now dawning on Arthur that he probably should've given Albert a fake name to send the letter to.

_Too late for that._

The clerk busied himself looking through a myriad of slots and drawers behind the counter, and only found it after going through an unsorted pile of mail. “Here, you go, just came in off this train.”

“Thank you kindly,” Arthur replied as he took the letter and walked out of the building. The train still hadn't moved, and he didn't want anyone at camp prying into his business so he took a seat at a bench and looked the letter over. It was nice stationary, and certainly nicer than someone like Arthur warranted. He broke the wax seal on the back and removed a folded letter, catching the loose photograph as it fell out of it. It was a picture of those wild horses out by Emerald Ranch that Arthur had driven in front of Albert's position. It really was a fantastic shot, seeing them all in motion like that. On the back of the photo Albert had penned the date along with the caption, “Near Emerald Ranch - 5/25/99.” A nice little memento that Arthur would try to store in his journal later. He then turned to the letter itself.

_5/30/1899_

_Arthur,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. I had a wonderful day in the swamp (a sentence I never thought I'd write) and those pictures of the alligators came out better than I had hoped. All thanks to you. Consider the attached picture from our previous encounter as a gesture of my appreciation._

_I wanted to inform you that I may find myself up your way again soon. One week from the date of this letter I am planning on traveling up to the Heartlands, east of Flatneck Station, to look for roaming herds of bison. If you're available, I'd like to see you. Just keep an eye out for a fool with a tripod trying not to get gored or trampled by the great beasts._

_Sincerely,_ _  
__A.M._

Arthur read the letter again to commit it to memory before stowing it inside his satchel. While he would normally enjoy running into Albert, he had no idea how he would handle this debt situation Strauss had dumped on his lap the night before. And now he didn't even have the excuse of not being able to find the man; he knew exactly when and where to look now.

The blaring train whistle snapped him out of his thoughts as the train finally started to pull away from the station. He had a few days to figure something out, and Pearson was expecting him back soon, so Arthur forced the issue from his mind and returned to camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna try keeping an in-fiction calendar to give a better scope of when stuff and chapters are happening in relation to each other. For anyone who cares, May 30th, 1899 was a Tuesday.


	3. "Almost dead" is not "dead"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur runs into Albert again, this time chasing after bison and trying to figure out how to talk about money.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE- This chapter was updated for minor edits on 8/21/2020

While he never had a formal, steady job, Arthur was the de facto workhorse of the Van der Linde gang and fell back into his role easily enough. Following his return from the extended absence everyone made a big to-do about, he made it a point to come back to camp every evening and make his presence known. In doing so he slowly convinced himself that he had dissuaded everyone else's fears that he was thinking about leaving, but the occasional knowing glance from Hosea told Arthur exactly what _his_ thoughts on the matter were.

He tried to busy himself with small jobs for the other members in camp until Strauss made a fuss about the debtors, and more specifically their debts. First he paid a visit to Mr. Wróbel, an immigrant with poor English that Arthur had basically robbed after putting the fear of god into him. Then it was over to Emerald Ranch to shake down Lilly Millet, in the process getting into a fist fight and knocking out her sweetheart who frankly should've stayed out of it. It was nasty work that Arthur didn't enjoy, but he _was_ good at it, not that that made him feel any better about it.

The next day he conveniently found himself in the plains, east of Flatneck Station, still trying to convince himself he didn't know why he was here. The truth of the matter was that he still had not planned how to bring up the money with Albert, but hopefully something would come into his head once they were face-to-face.

The photographer wasn't hard to find in the open expanse, but he always seemed to _want_ to be found, Arthur thought to himself. He was positioned well off the closest road, pointing his camera at a herd of bison from a comical distance while Penny grazed peacefully nearby. Arthur brought Ivy to a slow trot before quietly dismounting and leisurely walking up behind him.

“They're probably more afraid of you than you are of them,” he announced, intentionally louder than was necessary. This had the desired effect as Albert nearly jumped out of his skin at being surprised, and then relaxed when he recognized Arthur.

“Do you sneak up on everyone like that?” The smile on his face betrayed the tone of his voice.

“Nah, just you,” Arthur grinned while they shook hands. “How've you been?”

“Well, thank you. I trust you got my letter then?”

“That I did,” Arthur nodded.

“Good. The post clerk in Saint Denis was awfully confused that I wanted to send a letter to another post office instead of a real address.”

Genuinely thinking about it, Arthur rubbed his chin and kicked at the ground. “Last time I had a 'real address' I don't think I could even read yet.”

“Somehow I believe that,” Albert chuckled as he turned back towards his setup. His camera wasn't pointed at the herd directly, but rather at a prominent rock formation in the far distance. “So, think I can borrow you for a few minutes? I'd like to get the herd in the foreground with _those_ rocks in the backdrop, but they're too left out of the frame and I'm afraid I'll scare them away if I reposition myself. It’ll be just like herding those horses.”

He was about to respond with _horses don't have horns that can gore you_ _,_ but he held his tongue. Instead, Arthur clapped a hand on Albert's back, “Sure, I always got time for my favorite distraction.”

“I've been called worse things you know,” Albert replied with a smirk.

Arthur walked back to Ivy and rode her over to Albert's left, convinced that they’d be out of frame. The thing Charles had taught him with bison was that while they were skittish in numbers, you'd occasionally find yourself squaring off against the one bull in the herd that wants to put up a fight. He steered Ivy to closely pass by the outer stragglers of the herd, picking up speed and getting their attention. He just wanted to move them over a bit, not set off a full-on stampede, all while staying out of the photo. It was a tedious process over several minutes that was working for the most part until the exact thing he was hoping to avoid happened.

The bull was easily the size of a large carriage and likely weighed as much. He had gotten tired of Arthur zipping past the herd and scaring the other bison, and had put himself in front of Ivy's path, facing them with horns ready. Arthur had time and space enough to pull back on the reins and slow Ivy down, but he could tell she was startled by the bull.

“Go on, _get!,”_ he shouted with an arm wave.

The bull huffed and stood its ground.

Another shout, this time rearing Ivy for good effect, but this just agitated the bull more and he looked ready to charge.

“Ah, to hell with it.” He pulled out his volcanic pistol, easily the loudest gun on him, and fired two shots into the ground in front of the bull. That did the trick and the bull veered off towards the rest of the herd before breaking into a full charge. The gunshots also frightened the rest of the herd however, and the whole group of twenty or so beasts began galloping away from Arthur. Unfortunately, this put Albert right in their path.

 _“Shit!”_ He spurred Ivy back towards the photographer while calling out to him. He couldn't make out from this distance if Albert was paying attention to what was happening outside of his lenses. All he could see was a flash burst from the camera that was pointed directly at the on coming bison. Then another. And a third.

By the time Arthur pulled up he could see Albert was panting but still firmly rooted in place, looking ecstatic. There were deep hoofprints marring the soil all around him and Penny had run off spooked, but Albert seemed to be in one piece.

With concern audibly bleeding into his voice, “What the hell are you smilin' about? You almost died just there!” Albert couldn't seem to stop grinning.

“I'm sorry, but that was _amazing!_ It was like… like standing between two trains rushing past me! A little warning couldn't hurt next time though... How... how _did_ you know they wouldn't hurt me though?”

“I didn't!”

Albert's excitement drained a little and he seemed confused. “Then... then why did you steer them towards me?”

“I didn't mean to! I was just trying to spook one of the bulls and ended up setting off the whole lot of them.” He dismounted Ivy and looked Albert over as he approached. “Are you hurt?”

“No, at least I don't think I am,” Albert said, patting himself over. The distant look in his eyes seemed to suggest he was now realizing how closely he had just brushed with death.

Brushes with death seemed to be a regular occurrence around one Arthur Morgan. He extended a hand out to his friend, but then pulled it back, opting to clench it into a frustrated fist instead.

“Look, I'm real sorry about that. I didn't mean to put you in danger like that.”

“It's nothing, Arthur,” he offered with a faint smile. “'Almost dead' is not 'dead,' and it's a story if nothing else, right?”

Confused as to why Albert wasn't mad at him, he just shrugged, “If you say so...”

“I do say so; so don't lose sleep over something that _almost_ happened.” Albert turned back to his camera to inspect something and Arthur noticed his hands were shaking as he did so. Not that he could blame the guy. “Looks like I used up the last of my flash powder that I brought with me. I think I'm ready to call it a day though. Would you mind watching this for a moment while I go get Penny?,” gesturing at the setup as he turned away.

Watching it from whom, Arthur had no idea, because they were the only two people out here for miles as far as he could tell. Still, he humored his friend and stood by the camera as he watched Albert from about a hundred feet away slowly approach the brown horse and calm her down, feeding her something from one of her saddlebags. As out of place as he looked out in the wild, and he looked _very_ out of place, at least there was a sort of genuine appreciation about how he approached nature, and Arthur respected that. He wished more city folk were like him.

This momentary feeling of warmth in his chest was quickly squandered as he remembered why he'd actually sought out Albert today. He must have been wearing these conflicting feelings on his face because Albert seemed to notice as he approached, Penny's reins in hand. “Arthur, I'm fine, really. Don't beat yourself up over it.”

“No, it's not that. Just... something else on my mind.” Albert studied him momentarily.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Arthur looked at him for a few seconds before clearing his throat. “Last time I saw you, you mentioned something about a loan you'd taken?”

Albert raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Yes... Are you worried about my finances?”

Arthur found it was getting harder to maintain eye contact and truly wasn't sure how to proceed. Was he really about to collect a debt after almost killing the man in an accident? Did Albert even have the money, or would he have to take the camera or some other valuables as the collateral? Would Albert ever speak to him again after this?

He couldn't do this.

“Well it's just that... I was up in Emerald Ranch yesterday, met a feller who sounded like he was in a similar situation. But when the loan came due, some thug came and roughed him up something awful. It was basically a robbery, but I guess it was technically legal.”

Albert seemed to be processing this new information. “So you think that could happen to me? Someone might be looking for me? No, that can't be, I still have plenty of time before it's due.”

“Do you have the contract?,” Arthur asked.

“Yes, I have a copy in here somewhere,” Albert replied, turning and rummaging through a compartment in Penny's saddlebag. After a few moments he produced a piece of paper with a staggering amount of text on it and started skimming it over. “Wait. This can't be right...”

“What's wrong?,” he promtped, knowing full well what was wrong.

“The man I met in Valentine, German fellow I think, maybe Austrian, he told me I'd have a few months, but this contract is suggesting that it's already been due for a few days." He smacked his forehead. "Did I misunderstand him?”

“How much was the loan for?”

Albert paused for a moment, hesitant to go into his personal finances, but then admitted, “Two hundred dollars. But I guess with the interest...” He skimmed the document some more and his face dropped. “I owe _two hundred and fifty dollars?_ My god, I honestly did not read this at all before I signed it!”

Arthur whistled and tried to feign surprise. “Sounds like you got swindled.”

“That man, he was talking so fast that day and it sounded too good to be true. What am I going to do?” More of an open rhetorical question than one directed at Arthur, but he still tried to help.

“Do you have the money?”

Albert sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Yes, but... That would set me back considerably. I'd need to find a job in Saint Denis or maybe sell Penny," he reluctantly looked back at his horse, clearly hating the idea, "but if not, I'd have just enough to maybe buy a train ticket back to New York.”

At the mention of New York, Arthur felt something stir in him. He knew Albert wasn't from this part of the country and that this was all some sort of extended vacation for him, but the mention of specifics started to make this seem real. Albert wasn't just a fun character he came across from time to time, he was his own person who had his own life and would not be around forever. And Arthur realized he would miss him.

With a sigh, Arthur reached into his back pocket and said, “Here, lemme help you out.”

Albert looked up from the contract to see Arthur counting a sizable stack of cash. “What are you- _No._ Arthur! Stop that.”

But Arthur silently shook his head as he continued counting. Once he was satisfied with the amount he held it out to Albert, who flatly refused.

“Absolutely not. I can't accept this.”

Shaking it for effect, “Just take the damn money, Mason. You need it more than I do.” The photographer threw his hands up in protest.

“You've already helped me out more than I've deserved. I'm a grown man, Arthur, I got myself into this mess, I have to get myself out of it.”

“Don't be so goddamn proud about it.”

“I cannot.” Then a moment later, “Why do you have that much money?”

Arthur, suddenly in the hot seat, had to think of an explanation quickly. “What do I have to spend it on?," he shrugged. "I catch most of my food and sleep outside; not much else I need to use money for. It just adds up over time.”

“Aren't you worried about attracting the wrong kind of attention walking around with that much money?”

“Who's gonna take it from me?”

Albert took a moment to look at not only the Lancaster Repeater and Double Barreled Shotgun slung over his back, but the Volcanic Pistol, Sawed-Off Shotgun and knife that hung around the beltline. He raised his eyebrows and nodded in concession. “Fair enough.”

“So will you take it?”

Albert looked at the wad of cash in his extended hand and seemed to really think about it before responding, “I'm sorry, I can't. I appreciate the offer, but I can't in good faith accept it.”

Disappointed, Arthur stuffed the money into his front pocket. “Suit yourself.”

“More importantly, I appreciate the heads up so I can plan my next moves; otherwise I wouldn't have even been thinking about this. If I see someone like _you_ approaching me I'll be sure to run the other way.” He began to collapse the tripod and pack up for the day.

“What, am I that scary-looking?”

“Arthur, you're a walking arsenal made of muscle. Even your _horse_ is intimidating,” nodding his head at Ivy. “If I didn't know any better I'd say you were a debt collector yourself.”

He obviously didn't know any better, but Arthur wasn't about to correct him. For just a moment, Albert had turned his back to secure the camera and tripod onto Penny's saddle. The bag containing the rest of his equipment was at Arthur's feet. He quickly stashed the money from his front pocket into the main compartment before buckling it up and picking up the bag to hand to Albert.

Albert received the bag and turned again to attach it to the saddle. “Thank you. You really are helping me too much for almost nothing in return.”

“I like spending time with you, that's good enough,” he explained.

“Well I can't imagine how boring the rest of your friends must be if you find someone like _me_ interesting,” he quipped back.

Arthur laughed at the man's self-deprecating sense of humor but couldn't think of anything else to say.

Content with all his belongings stowed on his horse, Albert seemed ready to get going and there was only one thing left to do. Turning to face Arthur, he said, “Well this may be goodbye if I don't figure something out in the next few days.” Arthur sniffed and put his hands on his hips, looking away.

“You know, somehow I doubt that.”

“I envy your optimism. But, if this truly is goodbye, you have been a great friend to me and I want you to know that.”

Arthur tried unsuccessfully to fight back a smile and found himself hiding behind the brim of his hat. “I _am_ gonna miss saving your life every few days.”

“And I'll miss finding new ways to put it in danger.” Albert offered his hand to shake, but Arthur opted to pull the man in for a hug instead. It was brief, but he felt the moment called for it and Albert didn't seem to mind either. When they parted, Albert climbed up onto Penny while Arthur whistled for Ivy to come over.

“Either way I'll be sure to write to you to let you know what happens.”

“I'll keep an eye out for that letter then,” Arthur replied as he mounted his own horse. “Take it easy, Al. You'll be fine.”

“And you as well.”

Albert began heading northwest, presumably heading back to his hotel in Saint Denis. Arthur lingered for a moment watching him before spurring Ivy a different way back to camp. The encounter did not go at all how he expected, and he was actually down more money than when he started the day.

_Some debt collector._

Still, he didn't regret his decision which is probably the strangest thing about the whole situation. He chalked it up to just wanting to be a good friend and decided to put it out of mind until he could get a moment to sort his thoughts out with his journal later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, all I'm saying is that if you do the Jack Hall Gang treasure map quest, you can have a ton of money before the end of chapter two.


	4. The irony is not lost on me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albert invites Arthur on a trip for a few days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE- This chapter was updated for minor edits on 8/26/2020

_6/6/99_

_Saw Albert out in the plains today. Trying to get some shots of bison this time. I tried helping him out, and ended up almost killing him in the process. He said not to worry about it._

_I think his money issue is settled._

_[Sketch of a herd of bison with a rock formation in the background.]_

* * *

Over the next few days Arthur gave a masterclass performance in the fine art of avoiding Leopold Strauss. He was still making an active effort to come back to camp every night, but had perfected a specific path from the horse hitches to his bed in order to never even enter Strauss' line of sight. It didn't hurt that he was actually busy most days, either helping others around camp or bringing in some steady cash by tackling every bounty that the Valentine sheriff put up on his bounty board.

His luck finally ran out the night Sean returned to camp. Arthur, Charles and Javier had sprung him out of Pinkerton custody earlier in the day, felling dozens of men in the process. While he was privately glad to have the Irishman back, something that would remain private, Arthur couldn't help but wish there had been a simpler way to do it that didn't involve so much _death._ The sheer number of men that were put in place to watch over Sean was unexpected, and he wasn't even a “senior” member of the gang. Arthur wondered what the Pinkertons would do if they ever caught _him,_ and if anything short of an army would be able to free him.

He was leaning against a tree, watching everyone celebrate from a distance just outside the light from the campfire while his mind stormed with these thoughts. Apparently the spot wasn't dark enough to stay unnoticed, as a hand clapped on the back of his shoulder and snapped him back to the present.

“Herr Morgan, thank you so much for getting Herr MacGuire back in one piece!” Registering who the hand belonged to, Arthur only half-relaxed.

“Wow, I even put _you_ in a good mood? I didn't know y'all liked him that much.”

“I'm just happy he's back because he owed me money!” There was just the slightest slur in the delivery that told Arthur that Strauss may actually have been drinking for once.

_A special occasion indeed._

“Course he did,” Arthur chuckled. He made to walk away and towards a group closer to the campfire to begin mingling, but Strauss stepped forward. Not enough to get in his way, but enough to get his attention.

“While I have you, I wanted to inform you about one of the outstanding debtors.”

Arthur sighed and didn't make eye contact, trying to indicate he didn't want this conversation through his body language. “Look, I'll get to the last guy, I've just been busy is all.”

“Well that's just the thing, the last debtor, the photographer? He actually came to pay off the debt in person.” He had Arthur's full attention at that.

“Say what now?”

“Yes, when I was set up in the Valentine saloon yesterday looking for new clients he found me and paid off the loan in full. Including the interest!”

Arthur huffed, surprised that is was Strauss of all people delivering him relieving news. “Well damn, when's the last time that happened?”

“A very long time indeed. So obviously I offered him another, larger loan, but he turned me down.”

“Sounds like a smart feller.”

“If he were truly smart, he would've never come to me in the first place!” Strauss seemed to really enjoy his own joke, so Arthur forced a laugh and excused himself. With one less thing to worry about, maybe he could actually allow himself enjoy the festive mood of the evening.

* * *

The camp was slower to come to life the following morning but for once Dutch didn't scold anyone for it. It had been a long time since everyone was able to let loose for an evening, certainly not since the Blackwater job. Arthur still woke with the sunrise like he usually did however, and took the opportunity to sneak out to Valentine. The only one who saw him leave was an exhausted Bill who was just barely keeping watch at the north entrance with one eye open. Thankfully he didn't ask any questions, and Arthur found himself at the Valentine post office in a matter of minutes, just as the livestock town was beginning a new day.

It must've been too early in the day for the normal clerk that knew him to be working, so Arthur needed to bring this morning clerk up to speed. The poor man was overturning piles of mail and searching through the myriad of boxes behind the counter for several minutes. Arthur was about to leave before the clerk held up a letter he found in a drawer all by itself. “Here you go, sorry about that. I guess Lester was expecting you and kept this one separate.”

“Yeah, maybe. Thanks.” Just like last time, Arthur opted to read the letter here before heading back to camp to avoid any potential prying eyes. He noticed that this envelope was much simpler than the one first he'd received from Albert and it honestly he preferred something like this that wasn't so showy. He broke the wax seal and this time he was ready to catch the photos that fell out. He held in his hands two new photographs: one of a huge alligator floating in algae-filled water, scales and eyes barely breaking the surface, and one of a gator in blurred motion, running directly towards the camera. Arthur shook his head in disbelief that Albert actually convinced him to get out of that tiny skiff and get one of those monsters to chase after him. At least the end product came out good. He then opened the letter.

_6/7/1899_

_Arthur,_

_And here I thought_ _I_ _was stubborn!_

_You truly did not need to do that, but I suppose the deed is done. If it would not have taken a considerable amount of effort for me to track you down and force that money back into your hand, I would have. Instead, I elected to pay off that debt with Mr. Strauss and wipe my hands clean of him before he sent some hired muscle my way._

_I owe you tremendously and I promise I will find a way to repay you eventually._

_In the meantime, I am planning another excursion, my farthest and longest one yet! Ten days from the date of this letter I will be in Strawberry getting supplies before heading west for a few days. If you're available, I'd like to see you and maybe even ask for your company on this trip if you could spare the time._

_The irony of promising to repay you and then asking another favor in the same letter is not lost on me._

_Sincerely,_ _  
__A.M._

_P.S._

_Please find the best two photos out of several I took that day in Lemoyne. The action shot is my favorite. When I asked you to get out of the boat I was only joking, I didn't think you'd actually do it!_

Arthur re-read the letter once more out of habit before tucking it away and out of sight. He was glad that Albert didn't seem mad at him for stashing the money in his bag. What could he be doing west of Strawberry though? That was _real_ wild country that Arthur was more familiar with, and it was far more dangerous than the Heartlands or Lemoyne swamps. In the dense wooded foothills all kinds of predators could sneak up on you before you even knew they were there, and if you got hurt out there you could be miles from the closest town or homestead.

Albert could not go out there alone.

* * *

“I'm leaving, Dutch.”

It was several days later and Arthur was planning on heading out to Strawberry a day early so he wouldn't miss Albert. He was standing at the entrance to Dutch's tent as the gang leader looked up from his book with a stern and unamused look on his face.

_“Excuse me?”_

“Just for a few days, four or five at most.”

A pause, then, “Then why the hell did you word it like that?” Arthur shrugged and gave a weak, playful grin.

“I was just trying to scare you.”

“Well it worked, you ass,” Dutch scoffed as he turned back to his book. Normally this kind of banter would at least get some semblance of a smirk out of him, but he was having none of it this morning apparently. Arthur licked his lips and tried to think of how to smooth things over; he didn't want to leave just yet after how that exchange went down.

“Everything alright, Dutch? You seem...” But he just let the words hang there, unsure of what to actually say.

Frustrated, Dutch closed his book again and stood up to lock eyes with Arthur. Physically, he wasn't taller, but his presence could seem overwhelming in moments like this. “No, I'm _fine,_ Arthur. We just have no goddamn money and it's only a matter of time before Pinkertons sniff us out again. I have over a dozen people depending on me to make decisions and I have to pretend I don't hear the whispers behind my back. Other than that, I'm doing just _great.”_ Despite his clipped tone he kept his volume down and directed point blank at Arthur. He wondered if he would've preferred Dutch to shout.

Arthur raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, I get it. I'm sorry.”

Dutch stared for a few seconds before turning and sitting back down on his bed.

“Where are you going?” Arthur swallowed instinctively before responding.

“Out west. Have a friend who wants some help on a hunting trip.” A rehearsed lie.

“Is he paying you?”

That question caught Arthur off guard. “No? I guess it's more of a favor.”

If Dutch had an opinion on that, he kept it to himself. “Well don't take too long. I think I'll have a new plan by the time you get back and I want you involved.”

“Course, Dutch.” He turned to make for the horses.

“And if you're anywhere near Strawberry see what you can find out about Micah,” the older man called out.

“Sure,” Arthur reluctantly answered with a hand wave over his back. Apparently he and Lenny got into some sort of altercation with some townsfolk out that way and while Lenny managed to escape, Micah likely ended up in the law's hands. Honestly Arthur couldn't think of anyone who deserved to be in a jail cell more.

He got on Ivy and trotted her towards the north limit of the camp, wanting to wait until he got onto the road proper before letting her loose. Bill seemed to be on guard duty for this side again.

“Goin' to see if your sweetheart wrote you again?”

Not only was he not expecting Bill to speak up, but the question itself surprised Arthur, so he slowed Ivy and turned her around. “What'd you just say?,” he snapped.

“I said, you goin' out to Valentine to get a letter?”

Did he know about Albert and his letters? “What do you know about who writes me?”

“I'm just guessing. Tilly mentioned that you're always stalking around that post office like a vulture every time you take the girls into town.”

On days when they were especially stir-crazy, Arthur would take Tilly, Karen, and Mary-Beth on the wagon into Valentine and let them loose to blow off some steam and maybe rob some poor fools in the process. Perhaps he wasn't being as subtle as he thought.

“Yeah, well maybe I got business with lots of different people,” he tried. Bill grinned.

“What's her name?”

“None of your goddamn business, that's what.”

Bill just laughed, content enough to get under Arthur's skin which was probably all he was trying to do. He didn't know shit, so Arthur just wheeled Ivy around and continued out west.

* * *

He was half-expecting to run into some bandits or women in distress or any of the other myriad distractions one can find on the road, but Arthur made better than expected time, pulling into Strawberry proper around 5 in the afternoon. It had been a while since he last passed through this town and he noted a few new buildings that had gone up, mostly houses from the look of it. He had heard that this place was on the up-and-up, and apparently there was at least some merit to those rumors. During the gang's flight from Blackwater up into the mountains they hadn't had time to stop here.

Ivy was still energized from the ride, but he knew she would need the rest for whatever they ended up doing the next few days. Arthur hitched her in front of the general store and realized he had run out of food for her when he found her normal saddlebag of treats empty. He needed to get some provisions for himself anyway, so he headed on into the building. He tipped his hat to the shopkeeper and started to look around the canned goods for sale. He couldn't help but notice the man in the green vest and boater hat looking at another section with his back turned to him. Arthur smiled to himself and decided to have a little fun.

“Mister Mason, I'm here for Strauss' money,” he bellowed in a comically deep voice. Albert wheeled around with a look of panic on his face before relaxing and then turning to feigned frustration.

“Arthur, that wasn't funny.”

“Oh yeah? Then why're you smiling?”

“Because that voice was ridiculous. I had no idea who I was going to turn around and see.”

Arthur shook his hand and clapped him on the shoulder. “I thought you weren't coming in until tomorrow?”

“I wanted to get here early to make sure I'd make that date I gave you; I've never been this far west from Saint Denis I don't think." Poking Arthur in the chest with the can of beans he was holding, "Why are _you_ here early?” Arthur threw his arms out towards Albert as if it were even a question.

“Didn't wanna miss you. You know I'm not letting you go out there alone.”

The photographer studied him for a moment before subtly nodding his head. “Well in that case, let me treat you for whatever you're getting here. I'll have you know I recently came into a bit of money,” Albert whispered, voice dripping with sarcasm.

_Good to know he's not mad about the money._

Albert paid for both their purchases and when they left the store Arthur treated Ivy to a fresh apple.

“I was going to rent a room at the hotel just over there, hopefully their rooms are decent enough,” Albert said while pointing at a large rustic-looking building up the road.

“Good idea, we're probably going to be sleeping rough the next few days. Where are we heading anyway?”

“Well that's the thing, I haven't decided yet, I wanted to get your advice first. I'll tell you more when we get inside.”

Arthur was confused at that response, but interested nonetheless. As they walked up the stairs to the hotel, something stopped him dead in his tracks.

“Arthur? Arthur, is that you?”

He hated that he recognized that voice.

Looking to the right of the hotel he could make out a window on the lower level of what appeared to be the local sheriff's office. Peeking out of it was Micah Bell, looking right at Arthur.

“Do you know that man?,” Albert asked in a low voice.

“Unfortunately. Look, why don't you head inside and get a room, this won't take long.” He walked down the slope and took his time approaching the window. Albert must've lingered behind his back because Arthur didn't hear the door to the hotel open for several seconds.

Intentionally sounding as insincere as possible, Arthur began with, “Hello, old friend. Had a good time, did you?”

“You gonna get me outta here?,” Micah begged.

Arthur leaned his back against the wall of the prison. He wanted to savor this. “I ain't decided yet.”

“Real funny.”

“Oh, I ain't joking cowpoke. I heard so much bluster out of your mouth these last six months and now I got an opportunity to watch you be silenced.” He rolled over to brace both sides of the barred window. Micah searched his eyes frantically.

“Well you gotta do something!”

_“Why?”_

“I always looked up to you, Arthur.” God, he was pathetic.

“Bullshit, you're just saying what you think I wanna hear. Ain't gonna work on me.” He pushed off of the wall and began pacing in the small space in front of the window as Micah tried appealing to the other man's conscience.

“They're gonna hang me. And you're gonna realize you could've stopped it. You want that weighing on your mind?”

Arthur spit on the ground dismissively. “You ain't swinging anytime soon. They're probably waiting to see if you have any big bounty on your head first. So I figure you probably got two or three days.”

“So that's plenty of time to spring me loose! Come on, Arthur!”

Much as he wanted to watch Micah hang, he'd never live it down with Dutch if Arthur couldn't save him, especially if word somehow got out that he even had this conversation with Micah. Arthur looked up at the main road to see if anyone was watching. He didn't want to attract any attention talking to a locked up criminal, and he risked doing just that the longer he lingered.

“Look, just give me some time to think of something. Just the two of us against this entire town? I don't like those odds.”

“What about that guy you were just with? The one who went into the hotel?”

_Shit. He saw Albert._

“He's just some poor fool I'm trying to rob,” Arthur lied.

“Well let me out and I'll help you rob him!”

Arthur kicked a rock at his feet and started to walk away. “No can do, friend. Sit tight, I'll be back.”

Micah unleashed a slew of pejoratives at Arthur's back as he went up to the hotel, but the conversation was over for all he cared. Entering the lobby, Albert was nowhere in sight, so he inquired with the clerk at the desk. “The gentleman who just came in? I gave him room 3, upstairs.”

Arthur went up the staircase and knocked on the door before entering. Albert was getting situated in the tight quarters, bags and camera equipment spread across the bed.

“Just making sure for the hundredth time I didn't forget anything," he explained. "How was your, um, _friend?_ ”

Arthur huffed and shook his head. “He ain't no friend, just a doomed man who thought he could guilt me into helping him out one last time.”

“But you did know him?,” Albert inquired.

Arthur really did not want to go into the truth about this and had to think of a quick lie. “He used to run with that group I was telling you about, but we kicked him out a while ago.”

“Yes, this group of people who live out in the woods, moving from place to place that you mentioned?” There was just the slightest tinge of sarcasm in the delivery, as if Albert was skeptical about the matter. Arthur played it straight however.

“That's the one.”

“Well I'm sure you had a good reason to kick him out if he's found himself in a _jail cell_ now.”

“I'd rather not get into it.” Instead, Arthur reached into his back pocket and pulled out his money clip. “So what do I owe you?”

Albert looked up from his inventory looking confused. “For what?”

Arthur gestured around, “The room, I'll pay you half.” Another pause.

“But there's only one bed.”

“So?”

They both appeared to be confused at the situation. “I thought... I thought you'd be getting your own room?”

“Why? You never shared a room before to save money?” Arthur had done this several times over the years with various members of the gang when they found themselves coming back late from a job and it was either too dangerous or they were just too lazy to set up camp. Maybe city folk never had to consider it.

“No, never. But I suppose that makes sense.” The hesitation in his voice was obvious but Arthur didn't know why it was there.

“I mean I'll set up camp outside of town if you find me that repulsive. I was just offering-”

“No, we can share," Albert replied too quickly. "The man downstairs charged me 6 dollars for the night.”

Arthur peeled out three singles and handed them over to Albert, who thankfully took it without further resistance. “Well that's one thing settled then. You still haven't told me where we're going though.”

Albert seized on the opportunity to change the subject. “Well I have some ideas but wanted your input on what would make the most sense.”

“Well let's head on down to the bar and talk.” Arthur was already putting his hat back on and making for the door.

“There's no bar in Strawberry, this is a dry town.” Arthur stopped and turned on his heel.

“Wait, really? I thought that was just a joke?”

Shaking his head, “It's true, I spoke with some of the locals when I first got here.”

Arthur decided to sit at the small table in the room, “Alright, let's do it here then.”

Albert sat across from him, pulling out a small book. His own journal perhaps? Arthur suddenly wondered what sort of things Albert would write about. Not for long however, as the photographer launched into what sounded like a rehearsed sales pitch.

“So at this point I feel like my portfolio is close to completion, but I wanted to get a few more shots of different kinds of animals I think are in danger of being wiped out by humans in the next few decades. First on the list, I'd like to find a mountain lion, which I heard-”

“No.”

Albert blinked at the stern interruption. “I'm sorry?”

"No," he repeated. “No way am I taking you anywhere near a cougar.”

“Why not?”

“Those things? They’re _truly_ deadly. You think those wolves were bad? A cougar will have its teeth in your neck before you even know you're dead. I've seen them snatch men on horseback clean off their saddles. And they only come out at night, which I don't know would make for a good picture.”

Albert couldn't seem to come up with a rebuttal to that, so he just crossed a line out in his book. “Well if they get that kind of reaction out of _you,_ I definitely don't want to come across one." He took a moment to skim through his notes again. "Okay, how about heading south into New Austin or West Elizabeth to look for rattlesnakes? You can at least hear those before you're in danger, right?”

The mention of West Elizabeth conjured up memories of Blackwater. Just a hailstorm of bullets, men dying left and right, not knowing what happened to Sean. Losing Jenny and then Davey a few days later. All for a big pile of cash that no one except Dutch knew where it was hidden. That was only four months ago, there was absolutely still a bounty on Arthur's head down there.

He rubbed the thick stubble on his chin in an attempt to hide any reaction that might’ve flashed across his face. “I don't know, that's a bit of a hike from here and New Austin's pretty hot this time of year; if you're not used to that weather you could just drop dead from the heat. Maybe better to wait a few months for it to cool down.”

Albert scribbled something in his book. “Maybe another time then. How about a bear? Those aren't too far from here if I remember correctly.”

Arthur pondered a moment and found it agreeable. “Yeah, alright, that could work. Black bears are easy enough to track and you don't have to go too high into the mountains to find one. They'll charge at you but if you make enough noise they'll bluff and run off at the last second.”

“I learn something every day. Perfect, then it's decided!” Albert scribbled something else in his book before closing it, satisfied.

* * *

Albert went back to fussing over his equipment while Arthur went out to get some predator bait. He took care to avoid Micah's line of sight when he exited and came back to the hotel. For a town that was trying to bill itself as a tourist destination, Strawberry did not have much to offer so the two men found themselves relaxing on the room's small balcony for the evening. Albert took advantage of their bath services but Arthur declined, not seeing the point of it since they were about to be outdoors for the next few days anyway.

Whatever reservations Albert may have had about sharing a bed, he didn't express them again as they turned in for the night. He did raise an eyebrow at Arthur wedging a chair behind the doorknob, an old habit at this point, but didn’t question the action.

The following morning Arthur got up first, and made his way down to check up on Ivy. He'd stabled her with Albert's horse on the south side of town and he was surprised to notice that Penny seemed to recognize Arthur with the way she trotted in place with excitement when he entered the building. He decided to give her a treat as well and after brushing both horses and tipping the stable manager he led both animals back up to the hotel.

Albert emerged shortly thereafter with his camera and single bag. He may have been a city slicker, but at least he was packing light and wasn't bringing an entire baggage train. “Just checked out. Ready when you are.”

Arthur passed him the lead for Penny. “Sleep well?”

Albert patted down and inspected his horse, likely noticing that she'd been brushed. “Yes, I did, thank you. Yourself?”

“Fine. Guess it was nice not having to keep one eye open like I usually do.”

“Well I'm glad you could relax for once.”

“Oh don't get me wrong, I was waiting for that knife in my back in the middle of the night so you could take all my money. Just never came.”

“Bold of you to assume I own a knife,” Albert replied as they both chuckled. They started leading the horses to the northwest entrance of the town, not wanting to ride on the streets with all the pedestrian foot traffic in the way. They were silent for a bit, but that last comment worried Arthur.

“You're joking, right?” Albert raised a confused eyebrow.

“About what?”

“You _do_ have a knife, right? Like even just a pocket knife?”

A defensive expression fell across Albert’s face, like he knew he just got caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. “Well there's some cutlery in the hotel room back in Saint Denis...”

Arthur came to a stop and actually found himself getting upset. “Wait, so you're telling me that you were planning on going out into the woods for a few days by yourself and you don't even have a _knife_ _?”_

“What do I need one for?,” he asked shyly.

Arthur didn't even know where to begin with that. “For anything! What happens if you run out of food and have to catch and kill something? You gonna use your bare hands? What if you need to cut some rope? What if you need to defend yourself?”

Albert sheepishly averted eye contact, clearly embarrassed. “Well I haven't needed one so far.”

“No. If we're doing this, we're doing it my way.” Arthur dug around in one of Ivy's side bags until he found what he was looking for. He took out the belt and tossed it to Albert to catch. “Put that on.”

“What is it?”

“The hell does it look like? It's a holster.”

Albert looked down at it and sighed. “I take it there's no point fighting you on this?”

“Nope.”

Albert slung the holster around his beltline. It was Arthur's old holster that he had recently replaced, but it also had a spare knife in it. No pistol though; no way he was giving Albert a gun just yet.

Albert fixed the holster in place and sarcastically spun around on display. “Happy? How do I look?”

Arthur met his sarcasm with his own, mockingly holding his chin in deep thought. “You know what? If I were a crook, I'd think twice about mugging you.”

“Well aren't you just the pinnacle of chivalry.”

* * *

Unfortunately the first day out from Strawberry ended up being a wash, but Arthur wasn't expecting to run into their bounty so close to the town. He had set up the predator bait by a calm river and they had spent a few hours waiting for something to show up, but the only noteworthy visitors was a small family of deer. Since nothing else was going on, Arthur sketched the scene in his journal. Albert almost certainly noticed but thankfully didn't mention it; Arthur didn't like sharing his sketches, they were more for himself. About an hour before sundown they decided to call it and just set up camp on the spot since the area didn't seem that active anyway.

Over a shared meal by the fire they'd set up they chatted about nothing in particular until Arthur spoke up. “Hey, sorry for snapping at you like that this morning over the knife. I've just come across a lot of people who underestimate what it's like out here outside the towns and cities. I don't want you to end up like one of 'em.” Albert looked down pensively at his food for a moment before forcing a friendly smile.

“I've already forgotten about that, it's fine. Besides, you're probably right; if I'm going to keep putting myself out there for these little expeditions I should probably pick up at least _some_ survival skills.”

“How many more of these trips will you make?”

Albert sighed aloud as he thought about it. “That's a good question. Like I mentioned in my letter, I think I'm close to having a good-sized portfolio, but I'm finding I'm actually enjoying this part of the country even more than I thought I would.”

“So you're not heading back to New York anytime soon?”

“No, at least not until the fall.” He then leveled a look at Arthur. “Why?”

“Because I'll miss you, you ain't figured that out yet?,” Arthur stated matter-of-factly. The admission caught his friend off-guard.

“No, I... actually wouldn't have guessed that...” He looked down wistfully into his near-empty can of beans. “I still feel so inept compared to you sometimes, like I'm a child you're chaperoning. I'm always thinking I'm just one embarrassing mistake or one bad joke away from convincing you to finally abandon me out here.”

Arthur pointed at nothing in particular out in the dark. “Listen, I could get up and leave you in these woods right now. There's nothing stopping me. But I'm not gonna do that, because this is how I wanna spend my time.”

“Even if it's with a fool like me?”

Arthur abruptly put his own can of food down and stared at Albert.

“Man, why're you always doin' that? You put yourself down for no good reason.” Albert finally broke his gaze downwards to look at Arthur. When he said nothing, Arthur continued, “It was funny at first, but now it’s kinda sad. Yes, sometimes you put yourself in these careless situations, but you're doing it for good reasons. Most people don't know what they wanna do with their lives. You _do,_ and you're actually out here doing it! I respect that.”

A small smile broke across Albert's face as he looked into the fire again. “I suppose you're right. The easier thing to do would've been to just stay in New York and put this whole idea in the back of my mind. A year ago I couldn't have imagined I'd be sleeping under the stars in the untamed wilderness in the name of conservation." He leaned back with arms stretched out, looking skyward for effect. "Yet here I am, doing just that and still managing to survive everything nature throws at me.”

 _“Despite her best efforts,”_ Arthur mumbled under his breath as he stood up and dusted himself off.

“I heard that... But thank you, Arthur. I guess I haven't taken a step back to look at the big picture in a while.”

Arthur rummaged through a burlap sack on the ground until he found the bag of predator bait that had gone untouched today. “Just stop beatin' yourself up is all I'm saying.” Once he had the bag he started walking down to the river.

“I'll try to do that. Where are you going with that?”

“I wanna keep this away from where we're sleeping tonight,” Arthur explained, gesturing with his head toward the river.

“Are you sure that stuff even works?”

“Sure it works. It's all those smelly bath soaps you used that scared everything off today,” he dismissed with a hand wave. Albert couldn't let that go uncontested apparently.

“Well at least I practice personal hygiene unlike _some_ people.”

Arthur stopped and rested a hand on his pistol at his hip, “You got somethin' to say about me, Mason?”

 _“No,_ nothing at all.” He continued after Arthur had turned back around towards the river, “Completely unrelated, have you seen my nose plugs? I seem to have misplaced them.”

“You're an ass.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If he spends literal days outdoors, living, fighting, and sleeping in the same clothes, I think it's safe to assume that Arthur Morgan is one (1) stinky boi. I also actually kind of love the Strawberry Hotel, I just wish the town itself was more interesting.


	5. That makes two of us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Near-death experiences and late-night heart-to-heart conversations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE- This chapter was updated for minor edits on 9/19/2020

_6/17/99_

_Saw Micah yesterday in a jail cell in Strawberry. Crazy bastard actually expected me to help him escape in broad daylight. I don’t know what Dutch sees in him, but I gotta figure something out before he hangs._

_[Sketch of the Strawberry Sheriff’s office. A figure is peering through the bars.]_

_In the meantime I’m helping Albert track down a bear. Maybe one will eat me and I won’t have to worry about Micah no more._

_[Sketch of Albert at his tripod, overlooking a river in the woods.]_

* * *

After Arthur stowed the predator bait in a location he found satisfactory, they stayed up a while longer swapping stories of strange things they've seen on the side of the road during each of their travels. Before getting some rest, Arthur wrote in his journal to caption the sketches he’d done earlier and again Albert respected his privacy. Most of the people back at camp knew he had the journal and tried to read over his shoulder when they could, desperate for a window into his private life and thoughts. Mary-Beth was the only one who ever outright asked to see it and Arthur had to politely rebuff her.

In the morning they cleaned their hands and faces in the river and packed up their tents, electing to continue traveling north a little further away from the river. It seemed like a cloudy day, but nothing in the sky was threatening rain, at least not this early in the morning. They eventually settled at a small meadow hemmed in at all edges by thicker tree canopies. Arthur set up the bait in the middle of this clearing while Albert prepared his assembly at the edge of the tree line near their grazing horses.

Arthur walked back to Albert, wiping his hands with some leaves and tossing them aside in an attempt to rid them of the bait's scent. He jerked up his chin and asked, “That camera of yours, does it always need that flash?”

Without taking his eyes off the apparatus, Albert responded, “No, not necessarily, but it does help. Especially on a day like this where we might not have much direct sunlight. Why?”

Arthur took a place at his side, looking back at where he'd set up the bait. “I'm just worried it might attract too much attention to us all the way over here.”

Sounding concerned, “You think if I use the flash it might be provoked and attack us?”

“Nah, like I said, black bears are easy to scare off if you make enough noise.” For good measure Arthur removed his volcanic pistol from it's holster and made sure it was loaded. Albert noticed.

“Well hopefully we won't have to put down this bear in order to save others. I'd feel like such a hypocrite showing a photograph of an animal I knew was killed immediately after I captured its likeness in the name of conservation,” he said, turning his attention back to his equipment.

“So you're tellin' me I should've let those wolves eat you?”

“No, just... I'd like to be more careful this time.” Sensing that the joke fell flat, Arthur dropped the subject.

“Sure, me too.”

A few minutes went by while Albert constantly muttered to himself, tinkering with his apertures and dials and everything else on the camera that Arthur didn't understand. He grew restless in his inaction.

“So what, we just wait here then?,” he asked.

“Yes. A photographer’s most powerful tool is patience... Although usually this is the part where a very rude man I know shows up to scare the living daylights out of me.”

Looking away into the distance at nothing in particular, “Well I can run off for a bit and then sneak back here to do just that if you need me to.”

Arthur wasn't facing Albert, but he could tell the photographer was smiling. “Let's try something different today and skip that step, shall we?” Arthur huffed.

“Suit yourself. I'll quit yappin' and be over here.” He strolled back a few paces closer to the horses and sat with his back against a small boulder. He figured he was in for a long day of waiting and keeping up a conversation would probably only scare animals away, defeating the whole purpose of coming out here. Albert seemed content to stand vigilant at the tripod just like yesterday, going into that focused mode he always seemed to do when working. Watching his friend from a distance Arthur felt a pang of some emotion he couldn't place. Jealousy perhaps? He _did_ admire that Albert had a passion for something and was good at it, and that this passion didn't involve hurting or robbing or generally making life worse for someone. Arthur didn't really have anything like that.

The only thing that came close to that was his sketches, so he decided to do just that. He took out his journal quietly and began sketching the scene before him: Albert with his same vest and hat and camera, standing among some trees and staring into an opening. It honestly wasn’t that much different from the sketch he’d done yesterday. Halfway through Arthur realized that this was probably the fifth or sixth time he'd sketched the man. He hadn't even sketched Ivy that much.

He wasn't sure what to make of that.

About an hour passed by with no activity, but Albert seemed undeterred. Best Arthur could tell, they were downwind from the bait so it wasn't their scent scaring things off from where he'd set it up. He felt useless at the moment and was sure that Albert would grab his attention if he needed it, so he lowered his hat over his face to rest his eyes for a minute or two.

* * *

Arthur had no idea how much time had passed, but something startled him awake. He looked down to see the rock that had landed in his lap and looked up to Albert, about 30 feet away. He was silently pantomiming with excitement for Arthur to come closer and pointed into the meadow. Arthur followed his finger and saw a small dark creature in the clearing digging into the bait pile he'd set up earlier. Too small to be a bear though, but it didn't look like a coyote or a wolf. The animal lifted its head for a moment to look around and then back down to dig into the meal it had found. Arthur recognized it was a bear cub. A _brown_ bear cub. His stomach dropped.

Albert seemed thrilled however and the steady _click_ -ing sounded like he was taking several pictures, thankfully without the flash. Arthur slowly got to his feet as quietly as he could manage and started looking around wildly. If there was a cub this close, its mother couldn't be far either. No sight of her, though he did catch some movement behind some trees closer to Albert. A second bear cub came into view, not ten feet away from Albert who hadn't noticed it yet. It sniffed the air and started bumbling towards him.

Arthur removed and readied his pistol and in the loudest voice he dared to use he whisper-shouted, _“Al!_ ”

Wasn't loud enough apparently, but Albert soon noticed the second cub to his right and froze in place. The cub was only the size of a large dog, but he was probably piecing together what Arthur had already realized.

The horses behind the boulder to Arthur's back started fretting and neighing in agitation. Something was spooking them.

He heard her before he saw her. Several feet to his left came some deep grunts and huffs as something made its way into the scene. The bear, just on all fours, still came up to about Arthur's shoulders. This was way more than they had bargained for. It saw Albert next to her cub and let out a unsettling roar, causing the photographer to wheel around with a look of abject terror.

_It's gonna charge him._

The bear hadn't noticed Arthur next to the boulder until he stood up and started fanning bullets into her flank. At this range, he wasn't missing a single shot, but the creature was so massive he only seemed to startle and enrage her. He got four shots off with his pistol before the beast turned and charged _him_ instead. Arthur tried to dodge to the right but was too slow; the bear swiped hard and caught him in the upper left arm as the pain immediately seared into his mind. He fell to his knee and tried to pivot to aim another shot, but the bear was on top of him and knocked him flat on his back. She went to bite for his neck, and with all the strength he could manage Arthur tried pushing the head away. He only succeeded at slowing the assault however, and some teeth managed to sink and tear into his right shoulder, just above the collarbone.

 _"Hey!_ ”

Albert shouted at them both and in that split second of hesitation both Arthur and the bear looked up to take a full burst of light from Albert's camera flash. Arthur couldn't see anything, but he instantly reached for his sawed-off shotgun and fired two shots blindly into the air above him. He wasn't sure if the bear was still on top of him until he heard it move away by his feet. He quickly reloaded as fast as he could relying solely on muscle memory, noticing his left arm was inoperable and having to fire from the hip because he couldn't raise his right. For good measure he fired two additional shots at the frightened bear that was now running off into the meadow, cubs also scattering in that direction. The sawn-off wasn't effective at that range, but hopefully the sound would be enough to scare them off, even for just a minute or two.

With his vision recovering from the flashbulb, he quickly holstered the weapon and grabbed at his upper left arm. He was pouring blood in a way that didn’t seem real and his breathing was labored. He wheeled around, wide-eyed, happy to at least see that Albert wasn’t hurt.

“Oh, Jesus, no...”

The way Albert was looking at Arthur told him it was probably worse than it felt and the only reason he was even standing right now was because his body was running on pure adrenaline. Albert ran over to the agitated horses to get something from his saddle and Arthur followed after. Once Ivy was calmed down, Arthur reached in and grabbed a bottle of gin, took a swig and then poured it over his right shoulder and then his left arm, not even bothering to stifle the two screams that left him.

Albert approached with two of his spare shirts and began attempting to make a tourniquet around Arthur's arm. “We have to get you back to Strawberry, can you ride?!”

“Think so.”

A few seconds later both injuries were very poorly covered with shirts that were quickly becoming blood-soaked. Arthur had to mount Ivy from the right side with considerable effort. Albert didn't even affix his equipment to his saddle, he just held the tripod and bag in his lap as he mounted and pulled something out of his pocket.

With a voice that tried and failed to project confidence he said, “I believe... yes, southeast is this way. We'll go until we hit a road.”

Arthur tried chuckling though the pain to add some levity to the situation. “Course you brought a _compass_ but didn't think to bring a knife.” They were already moving, but Albert still twisted around to shoot an incredulous look back at Arthur.

“Is this _really_ the time?!”

“Not sure how much time I've got left,” he quipped. Gallows humor was almost a prerequisite for a criminal like Arthur.

“You stop that! I'm getting you to a doctor.”

Albert took the lead down a gentle wooded slope, supposedly in the direction of Strawberry. Thankfully Ivy was intuitive enough to follow without much guidance because Arthur was having trouble enough keeping upright, let alone guiding her with the reins. It was maybe four or five minutes of going like this before he started to feel unreasonably tired and his peripheral vision started getting fuzzy.

“Al, can we... maybe...?” His own voice sounded distant to him.

Albert turned around without stopping, “What did you say? I think we're almost at a road.” He also sounded farther away than he was. Arthur tried to mumble again but the last thing he remembered was falling off Ivy and hitting the ground.

* * *

The rest of the day was a haze. He vaguely remembered hands being put on him, lying on his stomach and walking up some stairs with assistance on either side. Couldn't really make out the voices but there was definitely more than one. Another flash of pain from his arm made him black out for good.

* * *

When his eyes were able to open and stay open, Arthur found himself lying on his back in a bed. Shirtless, but bandaged up tight and properly. It was dark, save for a single candle on the nightstand to his right. He slowly pieced together that this was the same hotel room in Strawberry they had rented two nights ago, or however long ago. His stomach growled something fierce and he was parched, but as he attempted to sit up in the bed the pain reminded him of what had landed him back here.

“Arthur?” Only then did he realize Albert was sitting in a chair at his right, seemingly reading a book.

With the best mockery of formality he could manage, he croaked out, “Evening, Mr. Mason, fancy seeing you here.”

Albert smiled faintly, but could not meet his joking attitude. “Fancy seeing you at all. I thought...,” he said before trailing off.

“That bad?”

Albert nodded. “That bad... Are you feeling any better? The last three times you woke up you were out again in seconds. At least I'm getting full words out of you now.”

“Yeah, I think I'm up for now. Could go for a steak and a stiff drink though.” A chuckle escaped Albert at that and Arthur found it strangely relieving.

“Well I'll remind you that this is a dry town, but I have the next best thing.” Albert closed and put aside his book and walked over to a table on the far side of the room. He poured a glass of water from a pitcher that he then offered to Arthur. “Also this isn't a livestock town like Valentine so who knows how good the meat out here is. I have some beans I can heat up for you.”

Arthur finished the whole glass in one go, apparently more dehydrated than he realized. “Can't you go down to the General Store and get something fresh?”

“No, it's closed. Seems the shopkeeper is still too scared to open up.”

“Scared of what?”

Albert took the empty glass and filled it again, using the pause as a way to collect his thoughts. When he sat back down next to Arthur he began, “After the doctor patched you up and we dragged you up here I had a moment to speak with him in the hall. Something... something _bad_ happened here, Arthur.”

After downing the second glass he put it on the bedside table, noting the pain in his right shoulder in doing so. “What, like today?”

Albert shook his head, “No, it sounds like it was a little after we left two days ago. That man who knew you in the prison? He escaped.”

Honestly, Arthur had forgotten about Micah. He figured he would have to ditch Albert after this trip and figure out a way to break him out in the middle of the night himself. At least it was one less thing to worry about.

“How?”

Albert resumed his seat at Arthur's right bedside. “They say a second man showed up wearing a bandana over his face and blew up the wall to the prison with some dynamite. Then the two of them killed the sheriff and two of his deputies as well as a bunch of civilians. Over a dozen people are dead, even a woman died.”

This was exactly the kind of scenario Arthur was hoping to avoid. It was clear Dutch didn't trust him to free Micah, but who would he have sent to follow after? Javier? Bill? If they made it back to camp, Micah was absolutely going to tell Dutch that Arthur didn't break him out, and Arthur wouldn't be there to defend himself.

Hesitant to divulge all that, all Arthur could manage was, “Jeez, that's awful...”

“Sounds like the mayor deputized a few men while they try to figure out who the new sheriff will be, and the streets were empty just now. The doctor asked if I knew anything about that man, and I told him I didn't. But I didn't tell him that _you_ did," Albert explained. He rung his hands together and asked, "Do you... think it's worth mentioning to the mayor? Once you're feeling better, of course,” he quickly added.

Albert was floundering around in the dark and he didn't even know it. This man who Arthur had grown to see as a true friend, who very likely saved his life today, didn't even really know what kind of man Arthur was. It didn't seem fair.

“Al, I ain't exactly been level with you on something.”

Albert sat back in the chair and folded his hands in his lap. “I'm listening.” There was only a moment of hesitation as Arthur debated if this was a smart thing to do, but he pushed forward before he lost his nerve.

“As a matter of fact, I _lied_ to you. I did know that man, Micah. But _I_ was supposed to be the one to break him out of that jail.”

To his credit, Albert didn't flinch or react at all really, so Arthur continued.

“We didn't kick him out of our group. Or, _gang,_ really, I should call it what it is. We knew he was locked up out here and the boss sent me to spring him loose.”

A pause. Then, “But you didn't.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Truth be told, I ain't his biggest fan, and I would've loved watching him hang, but that wouldn't look good on me if I came back empty-handed. And I didn't wanna do anything until after we got back and I knew you wouldn't be around.”

Albert was silent and stared down at his hands, much like Arthur was doing, before speaking. “Well I'm glad for that last part at the very least. Don't think I'd much enjoy being stuck in a town while it's being shot up,” he added with an awkward, forced chuckle.

“Hey, if I'd had more time? If I'd done it my way, it wouldn't have gone down like that. What happened here was exactly what I was trying to avoid.”

“So you wouldn't have killed anyone?”

It was Arthur's turn to pause because he knew the answer to that. But he'd said this much already, no point in starting to lie now.

“I'd try to avoid it, but if it came down to me or the other guy...”

“I understand,” Albert replied somberly. Arthur wasn't sure that he did. “Well this is certainly making other things about you make sense now.” Arthur's brows drew together defensively.

“How do you mean?”

“Well when you first described this group of people living on the edges of society that you travel with, I thought it was... very strange.”

“Hey, you called it _romantic_ at the time.”

“Two things can be true,” Albert responded with a brief smile that quickly faded. “Then there's the fact that I've never seen you with fewer than _four_ guns when most people don't even own more than one. And even if you were a hunter or some kind of... I don't know, 'professional outdoorsman', I didn't understand how you had that much cash and were so willing to part with it.”

“Well with that, I just didn't want you gettin' the gang's attention, so...” He trailed off, realizing too late that he might've said too much. Albert, smart man that he was, seemed to pick up what he was getting at and dared to look at Arthur.

“Do you know Leopold Strauss?”

He could have lied. He _should_ have lied. But he didn't.

Arthur nodded.

“Did he send _you_ to collect my debt?”

“He didn't know that I knew you. You were just a name on a list to him,” Arthur explained. Albert took a few moments to replay the incident out in the Heartlands in his mind.

“So you found me, brought up my debt, and then instead of taking it from me you paid it off?”

Maybe Arthur was running a fever, because his face suddenly felt unusually warm.

“Sounds silly when you put it that way...”

“Arthur. You sound like a _terrible_ criminal.” Finally a bit of levity was injected into an otherwise grim conversation as both men chuckled over the quip.

“I wish that were the case. I just didn't want you getting mixed up in our business. We're nasty folk and you don't deserve all that.”

Albert nodded subtly but continued, “Is that why you never told me?”

“Well come on, I don't exactly introduce myself to everyone as a bank robber. But that gang has been such a huge part of my life for so long I can't remember the last time I had a friend just to myself that had nothing to do with it.”

“I think I can understand that. You seem pretty selfless, but it's okay to want things for yourself sometimes.”

“I ain't selfless,” Arthur threw out reflexively. But Albert didn't flinch. Instead, he actually smiled back.

“You are around _me._ Or do you let yourself get chased around by gators for just anybody who asks?”

“That wasn't being selfless, that was me being stupid.”

“Again, for the record, I didn't think you'd actually do it-”

“Look, all I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner and I hope you don't think less of me for it.”

Albert fell into a pensive look again but didn’t respond for several seconds. “Well if we're in such a sharing mood, I could say that that makes two of us.”

Arthur wasn't following. “What do you mean? You some kind of criminal yourself?”

“Depends on who you ask,” was his non-answer.

Instantly, possibilities swirled inside Arthur's head. Was the law after Albert for something? Couldn't be for something violent, the man just didn't have it in him as far as Arthur could tell. Was he a tax dodger? Maybe he deserted from the army?

Sensing his friend's confusion, Albert pressed on, “I am a... deviant of sorts, in that I have no attraction towards women. Never have.” Looking to Arthur for any reaction and not seeing a reason to stop, he continued, “Instead I prefer the company of men.”

Neither of them spoke for a stretch.

“Really?” More of a surprised tone than an upset or sarcastic one. Albert matched it with conviction.

“Really.”

Arthur scratched his chin. “Hmm. I mean I've heard of that before, I just never met anyone who outright admitted to it like that.”

Albert swallowed, unsuccessfully hiding his nerves and said, “I may not have many friends, Arthur, but I count you among them. And it didn't feel right hiding something like that from you.”

“I mean I appreciate you telling me, but why're you makin' it sound so serious?”

“In case you didn't want anything to do with me anymore because of it,” was the soft-spoken response he received.

Arthur huffed in disbelief. “Listen, there's a long list of reasons why I ain't gettin' into heaven. Loving a man ain't one of them, but I ain't gonna judge you. It's not like you're hurting anyone, right?”

“No, usually I'm the one getting hurt,” Albert said through a small, pained smile. He may have been trying to add a joke here, but Arthur could see there was a lot more behind that tell.

“Why're you telling me all this now?” Albert sighed and shrugged as he thought of a response.

“I've been wanting to for some time, but didn't know exactly how to broach the topic. But now with you in your current state,” he gestured over Arthur's fresh wounds, “I thought I might actually be able to defend myself against you if... you... didn't take it well...”

As the weight of what he just said sunk in, Arthur propped himself up on the bed best his shoulder would tolerate. “Al, I would _never_ lay a hand on you.”

“I've misjudged people before.” There was that same fake smile again, this time betrayed by the pain in Albert's voice.

“Well don't misjudge me. Look at me.”

Albert cast a sideways glance at Arthur, likely unwilling to commit to full-on eye contact in this moment of vulnerability.

“You are a good man and it sounds like some things have happened to you that you didn't deserve. I'm not gonna be one of those bad things to you.”

“I was hoping you wouldn't be. Thank you.” Arthur was about to speak again when Albert interrupted him, suddenly jerking upright in his seat. “And I just want to assure you that I have no designs on you. I'm not going to risk ruining our friendship over something like that.”

“Well I thought that was obvious by the fact that you can't seem to handle my stench.”

“Exactly. If you ever actually took a bath and presented yourself as a human being I might be in trouble, but we both know that will never happen.” Finally, a genuine smile.

“You know what? Once I get outta this bed I'm gonna send _you_ to the doctor.”

“So much for not laying a hand on me,” he muttered good-naturedly.

Whatever tension there had been in the room a few minutes earlier seemed to evaporate. It was starting to feel normal again, and while something between them had changed, it wasn't necessarily for the worse.

“So I'm not gonna treat you different on account of your, ah..., preferences.”

“And I won't hold it against you that you're a criminal. So long as you promise to never rob me, of course.”

Arthur put a hand over his heart half-sarcastically, “Wouldn't dream of it. Now how 'bout some dinner? I told you I was starving and you got us openin' up our hearts.”

Already getting up from his seat, “Hey, _you_ started it. Let me see what I can scrape together for us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really struggled with how Albert would refer to himself with a period-appropriate term because "gay" wasn't really used in its modern context until the mid-20th century. According to Wikipedia, a hundred years ago the term "homosexual" just referred to any single-sex context like an all-girl's school. It seems like "sodomite," "invert," and "pederast" were being thrown around in the late 19th century, but those also had other meanings. I think if I were alive at that time I would have settled on "deviant" for myself.


	6. Battle of Horseshoe Overlook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur returns to Horseshoe Overlook. At least he tries to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE- This chapter was updated for minor edits on 9/27/2020

_6/20/99_

_[Sketch of Albert at his tripod, looking into a meadow.]_

_Finally found a bear for Albert. Biggest one I’ve ever seen. Damned thing almost killed me, but Al saved my life. Got me to a doctor and we’ve been in Strawberry for a few days now. Think we’re leaving tomorrow._

_Micah got out of jail somehow and it wasn’t because of me. Dutch is gonna be mad._

* * *

The following three days were mind-numbingly dull. The small town of Strawberry slowly stirred back to life like a colony of ants coming out of the ground, but Arthur was in no condition to get up for extended periods of time, let alone ride a horse out of town. Albert busied himself with reading the single book he'd brought with him, some poorly-written mystery novel by his account. At the very least they managed to take advantage of the balcony attached to their room to catch some splendid sunsets. The doctor came to visit Arthur and change his bandages twice a day and it seemed like Albert always made a point to leave to be with the doctor alone, presumably to pay off whatever fees were required behind Arthur's back. Arthur secretly appreciated the gesture, but was determined to repay his friend somehow in the future.

On the third night Arthur insisted on trying to mount up and finally leave, so they woke up early the next day to get a head start on traveling. Hardly an hour after sunrise Arthur was brushing Ivy out in front of the hotel as best he could with his arms’ limited range of motion when Albert finally emerged from the lobby.

“That clerk seemed so upset to see us go. I don't think anyone's ever stayed in that hotel for as long as we did.”

“What, they don't have people lining out the door to get in?,” Arthur deadpanned.

“It's certainly not the beacon of tourism they want it to be.” Albert looked around and almost as if on cue he made eye contact with an old woman scowling at him from her front porch and a dog relieving himself right in the middle of the street. He half-heartedly smiled and gave the woman a wave that was not returned. “I've had my fill of this place, are you ready?”

“You have no idea...”

They lead their horses to the south entrance of Strawberry before mounting up. His shoulder still wasn't at 100%, not even 50% if he was being honest with himself, but with care Arthur was able to hoist himself up and over Ivy. Albert was watching him, but didn't offer to help, probably knowing the offer would be refused anyway.

Typically it was Albert who initiated all their conversations on the road, but Arthur beat him to it when he inquired, “Hey, I never asked, what happened the rest of that day with the bear? The last thing I remember was falling out of my saddle.”

Albert had been leading, but he slowed Penny down so they could ride side-by-side. “Yes, we were just about to reach a dirt path when you fell. Maybe we shouldn't have been riding that fast, I'm sorry.”

“I was fading anyway, it probably would've happened regardless,” Arthur pointed out. Albert forced a chuckle and continued.

“Well I turned around, obviously, and saw that you were out. I tried slapping you around to bring you back but you were out cold; you were losing a lot of blood. So I tried tightening the shirts around you to stop that and then I had to put you back on your horse and get you back here.”

Arthur shot his friend a playful smirk. “You got me up on Ivy all by yourself? You're stronger than you look!” Albert pulled a face at the memory.

“Don't get me wrong, it wasn't pretty. I'm almost glad you were unconscious so you didn't have to see that whole process... I couldn't get you sitting upright of course, so I just sort of... draped you over her back face down, hoping you wouldn't slide off and faceplant into some rocks a second time.”

Arthur hadn't looked at himself in a mirror since the incident, but the residual soreness around his forehead and left cheek made more sense now.

Albert continued, “Then I used my compass until I found the first guide post that mentioned Strawberry and followed the road back. I didn't know what to do so I just asked the first man I saw for help and he directed me to the town doctor. He did what he could and we dragged you up to that hotel bed on the second floor and you woke up later that night.”

They were quiet for a bit as Arthur took in the new information and tried to reconcile it with his own loose recollections of the day. There was nothing conflicting about it, and he saw no reason why Albert would lie to him, so he eventually just followed up with, “Well that's one hell of a rescue story you can tell at one of your fancy parties now.”

Albert smiled as he looked forward down the road. “And I'll even have a picture to prove it. Though I'm not exactly looking forward to developing that one with the bear on top of you.”

“If you hadn't taken it, I wouldn't be here right now,” Arthur pointed out. Albert nodded.

“True. Still, it sends the wrong message, you know? I can't use that photograph to argue that wildlife needs saving from man when the subject matter is showing the exact opposite of that.”

Arthur laughed, “Yeah, maybe keep that one at home. I do know one thing though.”

“What's that?”

“I _told_ you that bait would work.” He could almost hear Albert rolling his eyes in response.

* * *

They made poor progress despite leaving Strawberry just an hour after sunrise. Arthur's shoulder was just in too much pain and they had to make frequent stops, but if Albert was getting frustrated he never made any comment about it. Arthur especially felt bad for Ivy; he could tell that after three days of doing nothing she wanted to let loose and ride as fast as she could, but there was no way he could handle her at her top speed right now if just her normal gait was causing him pain.

There was maybe an hour left of sunlight when they found themselves at a fork in the road, south of Valentine. Albert was the first to slow down. “I wasn't expecting to get all the way back to St. Denis in one day. Do you want to get a room in Valentine for the night and start again tomorrow, or do you want to set up camp on the ground a little further ahead?”

Arthur paused and ran a hand over the back of his neck. He didn't have the nerve to bring it up earlier, but now was as good a time as any to share his plan.

“Actually, Al, I think I'm gonna go on ahead on my own. My camp isn't too far from here.” The look of disappointment on Albert's face was brief, but unmistakable.

The photographer quickly recovered and asked, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it's maybe another ten minutes from here, I'll be fine," Arthur said, gesturing to the right leg of the fork. "You head into Valentine and take it easy, treat yourself to your own bed for once.”

“I _am_ looking forward to that, but I could ride with you a bit further if you want,” he offered.

Shaking his head, “You've done enough for me already.” He caught Albert trying to inspect his bandage around his shoulder. “I'll be fine, my people will take care of me. Hell, Miss Grimshaw will probably chain me to a bed to make sure I get enough rest once I get back.”

That seemed to surprise Albert. “You have women living in that camp too?”

Arthur shrugged as best his shoulder would allow. “We're not all criminals. Just most of us," he quipped. "There are some good people that depend on me and the money I bring in, people who are just in a rough way when we first found them.”

Albert nodded slowly and suggested, “A 'steal from the rich, give to the poor' situation?”

“More like steal from whoever, give to ourselves,” Arthur chuckled. Albert smiled warmly at that and Arthur felt a rewarding and mirroring warmth in his own chest for a brief moment.

“You really are something else, Arthur Morgan. Well if this is where we part, I must thank you again for coming with me on this trip. I shudder to think what would've happened if I went out there alone like I was planning.”

“You wouldn't have found nothin' because you didn't bring bait.”

“Or I would've ended up as bait myself...," Albert muttered, horrified. "I am sorry about all that happened and I hope you feel better soon.”

Arthur waved him off, “I'll be fine. Let me know next time you head out somewhere and I'll try to meet up again.”

“Will do. Be well, Arthur.” Albert turned left and followed a different road into Valentine while Arthur kept to the right. Albert was good company, but he was starting to miss the rest of the gang. Micah had surely made it back by now, meaning Dutch was sure to be in a sour mood, but that could be smoothed over.

* * *

Daylight was fading fast by the time he got to the hidden road that led into Horseshoe Overlook. Ivy seemed to recognize the location because she instinctively slowed down and followed the subtle path in. Normally someone would've called out to him by this point, but it didn't seem like anyone was watching this north entrance, which was strange. At the end of the path Arthur found himself in an empty clearing and became deeply confused. At first he thought maybe he took a wrong path, turned off the main road too early, but no, there was the old hitch post they’d used for the horses.

Arthur dismounted and scanned the area. This was definitely the place, but the camp wasn't here, no one was. Had they moved on without him? He didn't think he was gone for that long. Turning his eyes to the ground he tried looking for clues.

There were bullet casings everywhere in the grass. Way too much for simple target practice, this looked like a war zone. Several of the trees had bullets lodged in their trunks now that he was paying closer attention. Closer to the treeline at the edge of where camp had been, he saw a shoe by a bush. Arthur drew and readied his Lancaster repeater as he slowly walked around the bush.

He saw a man's body lying on the ground, poorly concealed by the bush. Arthur didn't recognize him, but he had a bullet wound in the lower stomach. Always a bad way to go. He was wearing a jacket over a red vest and there was a bowler hat lying nearby. Arthur reached into the man's pockets to see if he could find anything. No money, but he did find a card that read, “Pinkerton National Detective Agency – 'We Never Sleep'”.

_Shit._

The site was silent and no one was around, but Arthur still kept his gun at the ready feeling uneasy. He spent a few more minutes investigating. He found four more dead Pinkertons hidden in the underbrush and a lot more spent bullets. Thankfully he didn't see any pools of blood over by where the camp proper had been, but he was only able to follow the wagon tracks to the main road before losing them. His family had come under attack, and he wasn't there to help them. How did the Pinkertons find them so soon after coming out of the mountains? They were doing a good job of keeping low and working out of Valentine, or so Arthur thought.

The sun was almost fully set at this point and it didn't seem like they had left any clues for Arthur as to where they had gone. He wasn't even sure where they would have gone _to._ Surely not west, Blackwater was still too hot. Probably east, but how far east? Just past Flatneck Station, or all the way to Annesburg? It could be weeks before he was able to find them again.

It definitely didn't feel smart setting up camp here, nor did he want to. Not knowing what else to do, he went back to Valentine.

* * *

“'scuse me, I'm looking for a feller who rented a room here tonight. Kinda fancy looking with a beard?”

The clerk glared at Arthur over the top of the newspaper he was reading, clearly irked at the interruption. “For what purpose?”

“He's a friend. Heard he was in town staying here and I wanted to pay him a visit.”

The man glanced Arthur over from head to toe, sighed and folder his paper to put it aside. “Look, I don't want any trouble here.”

Defensively and with hands raised in a calming gesture, “And you'll get none from me, friend. I just wanna know what room he's in.”

“Then why do you look like a goddamned bounty hunter coming to rough up one of my patrons?”

Arthur's patience was already growing thin. Were he a younger man he would've already had his hands around this clerk's neck, but those tactics weren't worth it anymore. Instead he grabbed the front end of the counter and leaned in. “If I were here collectin' a bounty, don't you think I would've led with that?,” he growled.

The man held his gaze for a moment before deciding that Arthur wasn't worth his time either. “He's up in Room 2. Don't make me call the sheriff,” he warned. Arthur bit his tongue and instead opted to just tip his hat with a fake smile. While he was walking up the stairs he heard the man utter under his breath, _“and we ain't friends._ ”

_There's no pleasing some people._

Arthur approached the door and knocked on it before speaking up, “Al, you in there? It's me.” He doubted Albert was asleep already, it was only a little after 9 o'clock, and sure enough he heard some movement behind the door and the shifting sounds of furniture being moved before the door opened.

“Arthur? What are you doing here?” He looked like he was settling in for the evening, dressed only in slacks and a simple white undershirt.

“Seems like we were gone for longer than I thought. The whole crew upped and left someplace without me.”

“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. They didn't warn you they'd be moving soon?”

“No, it looks like they left in a hurry and I don't exactly feel safe hanging around there." He paused, grabbed onto his belt and looked down before continuing, "Look, normally I wouldn't ask, but with my arm acting up...”

“Of course, come in,” Albert interrupted. He opened the door wider and stood aside to allow Arthur to enter. This room and bed were even smaller than the Strawberry hotel. When Albert closed the door, he re-positioned the sole chair in the room against the door knob. Arthur cocked a sarcastic eyebrow at him, but Albert was ready for it. “What? You never know who's gonna show up knocking on the door at night.”

“I didn't say nothin',” he chuckled.

Albert walked over to the bed and stored the book that was lying on it away in his traveling bag. It looked like that journal Arthur had seen him carry before. “So your people moved on without you? Has that happened before?”

“No, not to me," he admitted. "Sometimes we move while people are out doing their own things and it takes them a few days or weeks to find us again. This is my first time being left high and dry though.”

Albert took a seat at the edge of the bed and asked, “Did they leave any clues behind as to where they might have gone?”

“Only clues I saw were a bunch of spent bullets and dead Pinkertons,” he stated matter-of-factly. Albert's eyebrows shot up in surprise that was frankly justified.

“I see,” Albert replied. He didn't seem to know what else to say to that and Arthur didn't blame him. He walked over and joined Albert, sitting on the bed.

“I couldn't tell from lookin' at the place, but I hope no one from the gang got hurt. We got women and children there, and the Pinkertons still went in guns blazing.” He shook his head and hid his eyes under the brim of his hat. “I shoulda been there.”

“Do you think you'd be much help with the condition you're in? Can you even aim a gun right now with the state of your shoulder?”

Arthur knew he was a miserable shot at the moment but didn't want to admit it. “That's not the point, I still should've been there. I would've found a way to help, to save people.”

“You certainly are good at that. Saving people, I mean.” Albert gestured at himself, “Exhibit A right here.”

“More like Exhibits A through Z...” They both chuckled.

“So what are your next steps?” Arthur sighed and straightened his posture as he thought about it.

“Best I could tell they went east, so I guess I'll take you back to St. Denis before startin' to look around. I know what kinds of places we like to settle in, so that'll help.”

Albert shifted his hands. For a moment it looked like he was about to rest it on Arthur's thigh, but he retracted it at the last second. Instead he offered, “Arthur, you don't need to escort me all the way back. I can tell you're distracted by this.”

“Maybe I want to.” The words fell out of his mouth before he knew what he was saying. He quickly followed up with, “Maybe I wanna feel useful and not abandon someone else.”

Albert looked into his eyes for a beat longer than he normally did and replied, “Alright, then. I won't stop you. With luck, maybe we'll run into them on the way back anyway.”

“Here's hoping.”

They were both quiet for a moment before Albert announced a little louder than was necessary, “Well in the meantime I was just planning on taking it easy the rest of the night before another long day of travel. What about you?”

“I was gonna head down to the gunsmith to get a new pistol, but I can do that in the morning.” Arthur had left his Volcanic back in the woods where that bear almost killed him. He'd favored that pistol in particular and felt naked without it now, his other three guns notwithstanding.

Albert studied him then said, “You should take the bed tonight, you're still not fully healed. I’ll run downstairs and get my bedroll.” He went to stand up, but Arthur was quick to put his hand on his shoulder and lower him back down to the bed.

“Don't do that. I'm not gonna come here bothering you this late only to kick you out of the bed you paid for. I can sleep on the floor.”

“So we can stop every two hours again tomorrow? You'll be exhausted. At that rate it'll take me a week to get back to St. Denis.” It was a playful and sarcastic comment, but there was some truth behind it.

Arthur twisted around in place to look behind him to find that the bed was flush against the wall that was not that far away. “Tell you what, I'll pay you half the price of the room and we'll just get real comfortable for a night?”

Albert considered it and replied, “Alright, six dollars.”

 _“What?!_ No way you're payin' twelve bucks for a single night in this place!”

“There's an upcharge. I was looking forward to having my own bed for the first time this week!”

Arthur shook his head as he took out his money clip and counted out the money, but he was amused. “I'm gonna tell Strauss to use _you_ for his next shakedown...”

* * *

Albert was asleep all but pressed up against the wall to Arthur's left, who was only really able to sleep flat on his back due to the injuries. Not the most comfortable position for him however, so sleep did not come easily. His left arm was starting to scab over and itch something fierce under the bandages as well, but he didn't want to risk an infection by picking at it too early. The room was warm and the only light was from the moon coming in through the window, though it was hardly enough to make out anything more than a few feet away.

His mind was turning over all the possibilities of what could've happened to the gang while he was away. How would he find them again? _Should_ he find them again? No doubt Dutch was going to be mad at him, either for not being there or for not doing enough to help Micah. Probably both.

That wasn’t a good enough reason to stay away though. However mad Dutch might be, there were still others at camp who depended on Arthur and the money he brought in, no matter how he came across it. He’d have to look for them. He didn’t want the girls or little Jack to think he’d abandoned them.

A sudden mild flash of pain shot up from his left arm. Not enough to cause him to cry out, but he definitely winced before feeling a hand settle on his chest. He was so caught up in his mind he didn't even notice Albert had rolled over in his sleep to face away from the wall. He lay still for a moment before hearing Albert gently snoring again. He didn't know what to do and felt frozen in place. It felt wrong, like something he'd get in trouble for. But from who? There was no one else in the room, no one else who would even know about this.

He dared to turn his head and look Albert over. In the moonlight his face was relaxed and peaceful, not that he was normally high-strung or scowling all the time. Arthur didn't want to wake him up, not for something like this. He didn't want Albert to feel judged or like he did something wrong. It was just a hand on a chest, it was no big deal. In a bed this small it was probably inevitable. There was still a voice in the back of Arthur's head telling him that this shouldn't be allowed, but there were plenty of things he'd done in his life that he ignored that voice on.

Besides, there was something validating in the gesture, accidental as it was. That Albert had even agreed to share a bed, to put himself in this situation was a sign that he trusted Arthur. Hell, trusted him enough to share his deepest secret, even in the face of fearing that Arthur would hurt him over it after finding out. Most people looked at Arthur and assumed the worst, like that hotel clerk downstairs, but Albert apparently saw something different. He'd be lying to himself if he denied that it felt good to be trusted.

Arthur fought down that instinct to move and relaxed into the bed instead.

* * *

The next time he awoke, Arthur shot up in the bed to see a fully-dressed Albert with a hand on the door knob. They stared at each other a moment before Albert spoke.

“Good morning.”

“Mornin'.”

“Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you.”

“Where you sneaking off to?”

Confused, “Sneaking off? I'm just getting back.” Albert seated himself in the chair and began taking off his boots that were already caked in fresh mud.

Arthur was realizing how bright the room was. “What time is it?”

“Little after 8 o'clock. You were out cold so I went down to check on the horses. Fed them both.” Arthur snapped his head back towards his friend.

“Ivy actually took food from you?” She was a fiercely loyal horse who'd think nothing of kicking away a stranger who got too close, and that exact thing had happened a few times before. Hell, even most of the people back at camp she seemed to recognize were wary around her. Albert seemed largely oblivious to the context however.

“With a little coaxing, yes. I think she's used to me at this point.”

“Well that's mighty kind of you, thanks.”

“I also got something that might interest you. Came across a paper boy who had the latest edition.” He bent down and picked up a folded newspaper off the floor and tossed it to Arthur before working on his second boot.

Arthur caught it and scanned the front page. _“President Alfred MacAlister congratulated the American people and their response to the call to arms_ \- What the hell is this?”

“No, the one below that.”

“Oh.”

_BATTLE OF HORSESHOE OVERLOOK_

_Agents working with the Pinkerton Detective Agency recently received a tip that the notorious Van der Linde gang had settled into a wooded area just outside of Valentine known to locals as Horseshoe Overlook. The gang is wanted for a litany of crimes, most notably for their involvement in the seizure of a large quantity of banknotes transported by ship in Blackwater, West Elizabeth earlier this year._

_The security agents, led by Agent Andrew Milton, attempted to apprehend the gang and secure a nighttime surrender by surrounding the perimeter of the camp, but their offer was rebuffed and met with immediate and terrible violence. Over the better course of an hour the two sides exchanged gunfire in darkness before the agents were forced to retreat under heavy casualties. Casualties sustained by the gang members are unknown at this time. By the time local authorities were brought in to assist, the gang had cleared out and were last seen heading east._

_Civilians are encouraged to approach either local authorities or members of the Pinkerton Detective Agency if they have any information on the Van der Linde gang's current whereabouts, but are advised to maintain a safe distance from the extremely dangerous individuals._

Arthur dropped the paper to his lap. Not only was he not there to help, but this whole thing went down at _night?_ He imagined the chaos, the fear that his friends must have gone through, shooting into the dark not knowing what would come out of it or how many guns they were even squaring off against.

“Shit...”

“It didn't sound good, no. But I thought you'd appreciate at least some details.”

Arthur blinked back into the present and could only manage, “I do, thanks, Al.”

“At least they got away, right? It could've been worse.”

“I guess.”

“You'll find them, Arthur. I know you will.” He stood up from his chair and checked his pocket watch. “I had the staff run me a bath downstairs, I won't take long. We can leave when I finish.”

Raising a playful eyebrow, “Didn't you just take a bath last week?”

“Yes, a whole _week_ ago, and now I'm starting to smell just like _you_ after sharing all these beds! I may appreciate the outdoors, but I'm not ready to give up _all_ the luxuries of civilization.”

Arthur thought back to last night when Albert had laid across him. He felt uncomfortably warm all of a sudden.

“Alright, suit yourself. I'm gonna head down to the gunsmith to get a new pistol.”

“Why, what's wrong with- _oh.”_ They hadn't outright talked about it, but he was likely remembering that they'd left his old one behind at the scene of the bear attack.

Arthur threw up a reassuring hand and said, “It was an accident, and I don't feel like going all the way back to look for it, it's fine.”

They both stepped out into the hallway and Albert locked the door behind them. “What, openly brandishing three guns isn't enough? Sometimes I feel like you're compensating for something...”

Arthur shoved him playfully, “Go take your bath, you smelly bastard.”

* * *

About an hour and a half later they met at the front of the hotel ready to go. Arthur had just opted for a standard Volcanic Pistol, and luckily the gunsmith had one left in stock. He didn't want to spend the whole day waiting around for the man to fine-tune and pretty it up the way Arthur had the last one, and it was fine enough as-is. They were setting out much later in the morning than Arthur would've liked, so he made an effort to tough it out and stop less often as they had the day before.

They made decent progress, their only distraction being a strange man dressed as a woman claiming he had lost some circus animals for his traveling show or whatever it was he was doing. Albert seemed enamored, but Arthur recognized it for what it was; nothing but a waste of time. He had them press on, leaving this “Margaret” fellow to yell after them something about a zebra up by Emerald Ranch.

They made surprisingly good time when compared to their pace from the day before, pulling into the outskirts of Saint Denis with a good hour of sunlight left. They both dismounted at the front of the farm that Albert was stabling Penny at, but the owner didn't seem to be around.

“It's a decent-sized stable, I'm sure you could keep Ivy in there for the night and we could speak with the farmer in the morning.” He let the implication hang there, but Arthur didn't understand it.

“Why would I do that?”

Albert was leading his horse into the main gate of the farm but then stopped and turned to face Arthur, who was staying in the main road. “Aren't you staying with me tonight?” Arthur considered it for just a moment, but his determination to find his family quickly won out.

“Nah, I actually was gonna head out.”

“Oh. I guess we didn't discuss it and I just assumed.” He stared at the ground for a moment and then offered, “Would you... _like_ to stay with me? You're more than welcome to.”

Arthur immediately recalled the moment they had shared the previous night when Albert had touched him, a moment that Albert didn't even remember. He pulled a tight smile and said, “Appreciate it, but I think I'd have better luck findin' my people at night, it's easier to keep an eye out for campfires.”

“Of course, that makes sense," Albert conceded, fidgeting with Penny's lead in his hands. "Well I suppose I should stop sending letters to the Valentine post office then?”

“No, I'm probably not gonna find myself up that way for a while.”

“How can I keep in touch?”

Arthur thought about it then said, “I'll come visit you. You're still in that hotel down the road right? I'll stop by in a few days if I still haven't found my camp.”

Albert found that agreeable and nodded. “I'll certainly be around. I think I'll take a break from adventures for the next few days and properly pamper myself like the city boy I am.”

“Well good, you do that,” Arthur chuckled.

“And I must thank you again; this past week could've gone horribly different had I gone out there alone.”

In a rare moment of vulnerability Arthur said, “I should probably be thanking _you_ for getting my sorry ass to that doctor, but let's just call it even.”

“Deal.” Albert held out his hand and Arthur shook it before reflexively pulling him in for a hug, instantly regretting the movement as pain shot up from his shoulder. He winced audibly. “See, that was exactly what I was trying to avoid,” Albert scolded.

Arthur released him and stepped back. “What're you talking about, I feel great,” trying and failing to play it off.

Albert just shook his head and grabbed Penny's reins. “You're a horrible liar, Arthur. Good luck finding your friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the bigger points of canon divergence that I have planned. I wanted to give the sensation that events would still be happening even if Arthur wasn't around to progress things, and I always thought the shootout at the ending of Chapter Two would've been more dramatic had it happened at Horseshoe Overlook rather than in the middle of Valentine.
> 
> Also this hotel outside of Saint Denis I keep referencing is the blue building right in front of Algernon Wasp's shop on the northern edge of the city. You can't enter it and I don't believe it's ever plot relevant, but it looks like a nice place to stay.


	7. It's just an opinion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur takes a break from his search and spends a day in Saint Denis with Albert. He runs into an old friend.

_ 6/23/99 _

_ Guess we were up in that hotel longer than I thought. Camp was empty when I got there. Apparently Pinkertons found them while I was gone and they had to run again. Hope no one got hurt. I’m gonna try looking for them by Annesburg, maybe they went into the hills. _

_ [A newspaper cutout titled “BATTLE OF HORSESHOE OVERLOOK” is tucked into the page. _

* * *

Waking up later than normal had afforded Arthur some additional energy to carry on a bit longer into the night. He decided to head north out of Lemoyne, checking out the area just west of Van Horn and Annesburg. This was hilly country, and the high vantage points gave him a good line of sight but he didn't spot any campfires or even smoke plumes in the clear summer night. The following day was spent pouring through the hills and asking passersby on the roads if they'd heard of any new gangs coming in the area under the guise of being a bounty hunter. No such luck on that front, though Arthur certainly became familiar with this region and learned of a nasty sounding clan called the Murfree Brood. This new information might come in handy someday if nothing else.

* * *

Three days of fruitless searching had passed before Arthur decided to take a break and return to Saint Denis, lest Albert start worrying himself sick over the lack of updates. On the fourth day he rose with the sun and followed the Kamassa south back into the city. He still hated the place with its smokestacks and too many people living on top of each other, but he was beginning to associate it with his friend, and that made it almost tolerable. Almost.

Around mid-morning Arthur hitched Ivy at the front of the hotel Albert had been staying at, some vaguely Victorian building with a sign that read “Hôtel la Licorne”. He entered and found an old woman sitting behind a desk who instantly put down her teacup and stood up, beaming at Arthur. “Bonjour, monsieur. Comment puis-je vous aider?”

_ Oh great. _

“Ah, sorry, just English.”

“Oh, excuse me,” she replied with a comically thick accent. “You need help?”

“Yeah, I'm looking for a friend who's staying here. He's not expecting me, least I don't think he is, but I was wondering...” Arthur trailed off because he could tell he was losing this woman. Her English was probably about as good as his French. “Mason? Albert Mason? That ring a bell?”

“Maison?  _ House? _ ” The poor woman was trying her best.

Thankfully Arthur heard the door open behind him and turned to see Albert himself walk in. “Bonjour, Madame Garnier, ça va bien?” He was making his way for the flight of stairs before he recognized Arthur wasn't just some other customer. “Arthur! I almost walked right past you!”

The two men shook hands and this Madame Garnier asked Albert something in French, pointing at Arthur inquisitively. He replied slowly in her language and after some banter Arthur didn't understand her body language seemed to relax and she began smiling again; at least he could understand that much. After exchanging pleasantries Albert waved for Arthur to follow him up the stairs who couldn't help but chuckle.

“What's so funny?”

“Of course you speak French, I don't know why I'm surprised.”

“Just enough to get by in this city, and I'm told my accent is horrible.”

“That's still more than I can say. I was ten seconds into that conversation and already wanted to give up.”

They reached the top of the stairs and Albert led them to a room on the right of the landing, pulling out a key and working on the door. “Good thing I found you then. Is Ivy outside? I must've walked right past her too.”

“Something on your mind?”

“You could say that.” Albert finally got the lock loose and opened the door, revealing a pitch black room which was confusing for this hour of the day. “Sorry, give me a moment.” He stepped into the room and all but disappeared for a few seconds before he opened some very thick curtains over the windows some twenty feet away. This was a pretty big hotel room.

Arthur stepped in and closed the door behind him. “What was that about?”

“Well I don't have access to a professional photography studio, so I've been using this room to develop my pictures, and that requires darkness. I guess I just got used to it being so dark in here. Excuse the mess, if you will.”

The room was surprisingly messy, books and clothes and equipment strewn about the floor and furniture. Arthur found it amusing that a man as prim and proper as Albert would be living in a state like this. On the right wall was a couch that had the camera and tripod Arthur recognized from their excursions. On the wall above the couch were dozens of photographs strung up on strings, held in place by clothespins. While Arthur walked over to inspect them, Albert busied himself in the kitchenette.

“Let me fix up some tea if you'll stay a minute. Or do you prefer coffee?”

“Either's fine.” Some of the photographs were familiar, but most of them he'd never seen before. Lots of landscape shots with mountains in the background, or shots of random passerby on the streets of Saint Denis. One of them he was pretty sure was of himself, riding away on Ivy, his back turned from the camera.

“Have you had any luck finding your friends?” It seemed that Albert was still uncomfortable using the word “gang.”

“Nah, not yet, but at least now I know where they're not.” One of the newer pictures he didn’t recognize was one of a bear cub with its head held up in profile, scanning the area before returning to the predator bait Arthur had laid out for it. It was almost kind of cute. But next to that one was a picture that made his blood chill.

Albert came back into the main room to see what Arthur was focused on. “Oh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left that one out...”

It was a picture of Arthur, flat on his back with a look of abject terror on his face. A monstrous bear on top of him, pinning him down, and roaring into the camera. If the picture was able to show color it probably would've been mostly red with Arthur's blood.

“That's one hell of a shot.”

“It is,” Albert agreed, now observing it as well. “I have conflicting feelings about this one though.”

“Why's that?”

“Well this photo shows you basically sacrificing your life to save mine. I'm grateful that you did that, but you shouldn't have had to. The only reason you were in that situation was because of me. So I guess it's a reminder of something you did for me, but there's a healthy side of guilt to go along with it.”

“Well at least I'm still around to see it, right?”

“True, I probably wouldn’t have even developed the negative if you died up there.”

They spent a moment longer looking at it before Arthur asked, “Can I have it?”

Albert seemed genuinely surprised. “You  _ want  _ it?”

“Sure! Next time I tell my boys that a bear laid me out for a few days I can use this to prove it.”

“It is a little morbid for my tastes, and I doubt I'll ever forget this image, so I don't see why not.” He removed the clothespin and handed Arthur the photo, who took it and tucked it in a random page in his journal.

“Appreciate it. Now what's got you so distracted today? You in trouble again?”

Albert shook his head and sat at the foot of the bed, opposite the couch. “Quite the opposite, I think I may finally have a shot at getting my work shown in a gallery in the city!”

“Hey, good for you!”

“I was actually coming back here to put together a quick portfolio; I have a meeting with the owner of the Galerie Laurent in about an hour. I wasn’t expecting to get an audience so quickly, otherwise I'd have one pulled together already.”

“Well let's take a look at what you got.”

* * *

They spent about half an hour over some fancy tea deciding which of Albert's photographs were most impressive. The wolves, horses and the action shots of the alligator chasing Arthur and Albert's close call with the bison were no-brainers, but there were a few more peaceful scenes of idyllic countryside that also conveyed the notion that there were other aspects of nature that needed protecting from man. Albert glanced at his pocket watch and noted that he would have to leave soon if he wanted to meet the gallery owner on time. Arthur offered to tag along since he was taking a break from looking for his gang anyway, so they left the hotel on foot to walk into the city.

They found themselves in one of the fancier parts of the city, not that you could tell by the smell, when a question came into Arthur's mind. “So assuming you get this showing you want, are you leaving once that's over?”

“No, at least I don't want to. Raising awareness about an issue isn't a one-and-done thing, this would just be the first step. I could still work on my portfolio and maybe get my name into some local newspapers. And there's still so much to the west I haven't seen yet, I still haven't even crossed into West Elizabeth and New Austin! I hear Blackwater is an up-and-coming place, maybe I could relocate there for a few weeks, finances permitting.”

Arthur fought back a flinch at the mention of Blackwater. Albert would like it there though, he knew that much. “That's good, glad you're thinking ahead.”

Whatever Albert was going to say was cut off as a woman started crying down to them from a balcony of a stately building they were walking past. “Arthur! Arthur, up here!”

Arthur slowed and looked up to see none other than Mary Linton of all people. “Mary?” He felt like the wind had just been knocked out of him. They hadn't seen each other in, what, nine years? Hardly any contact at all, yet there she was calling down to him.

If there was any visible confusion on his face or in his voice, it didn't seem to register with her however. “You came! Stay right there, I'm coming straight down.” She disappeared from the balcony and into the building which appeared to be some kind of hotel. Arthur stayed rooted in place and felt numb all over. He started to get tunnel vision staring at the hotel door, but Albert unintentionally snapped him out of it.

“Do you know that woman?”

“Yeah, we got a history.”

“Good or bad?”

Arthur genuinely didn't know how to answer. After a moment, “Complicated.” He didn't know why but he started to feel adrenaline flowing like it did right before a fight. Mary was about to come through those doors and she seemed to actually be  _ expecting _ him for some reason. He had no idea what was about to happen, but he wanted to go into it with at least some dignity. “How do I look?”

Albert looked him over as he straightened his posture and smoothed out his vest. “You look... handsome.”

Arthur wasn't expecting that. “Really?”

“It's just an opinion,” Albert replied before turning his gaze towards the hotel doors. Sure enough, Mary exited the building a moment later with considerable momentum, but she slowed and came to a stop at the foot of the stairs as she locked eyes with Arthur from a safe distance. Everyone was still.

Albert decided to take the initiative. “I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met, Miss...?”

She broke her gaze to address this new man approaching her with a smile. “Linton, Miss Mary Linton.” Arthur noticed she said  _ Miss _ and not  _ Mrs _ . Not using her maiden name of Gillis however.

“Albert Mason, a pleasure.” He gestured back at Arthur who still had not moved. “It seems you've rendered our mutual friend here at a loss for words.”

It was only then that she seemed to actually focus on Albert. “You're friends with Arthur? Are you one of Dutch's new boys?” Albert was left unsure how to answer and simply glanced back at Arthur.

“It's fine, Al. She knows about all that.”

Turning back to Mary, “Ah, no, I don't think I'm quite cut out for that kind of life. We're just friends.”

“What're you doing here, Mary?” Arthur finally found the courage to step forward and close the gap between them in the middle of the street.

“I wanted to see you. You read my letter, didn't you?”

“What letter? I didn't even know you were in Lemoyne.”

“I... I sent you a letter explaining. I'm sorry, I thought that was why you were here.”

“I didn't see no letter, but I'm a hard man to get in contact with.”

“I know that better than anyone.” There was an unmistakable pain laced in the delivery of that line, so Arthur hid his eyes under the brim of his hat as he so often did when a conversation grew difficult.

This was getting to be a bit too much for Albert. “I'm sorry, Miss, Linton, was it? I was actually on my way to a prior engagement. Perhaps I could leave you two to catch up and we could become better acquainted at a later date?” There was that upper class charm that Albert could apparently turn on and off like a light switch. Mary, for her part, played right along with a polite smile.

“I think I should like that, Mr. Mason. You're not like most of Arthur's other friends.”

“Well it certainly sounds like we'd have plenty of stories to swap, but I truly must depart.” With a bow and a ridiculous flourish he turned and continued down the street, calling over his shoulder, “Arthur, you know how to find me.”

“I'll catch you later, Al,” Arthur replied, waving his friend off. He walked up with Mary to the foot of the hotel to get out of the middle of the street as a carriage approached. Mary seemed to wait until Albert was out of earshot.

“He seems nice.”

“He is.” Arthur took a moment to look at Mary. It really was her. She looked good, if a little older, but it had been almost a decade, of course she wouldn't look the same. She was probably thinking the same about him. “So, it's just  _ Miss _ Linton now? You finally left that fool but kept his name?”

Whatever shine there was in Mary's face from seeing Arthur again faded immediately and she lowered her gaze to the ground. “Barry died.”

“Ah...  _ Shit _ , sorry.”

“Me too. Happened a while ago. Pneumonia.”

“Bad business.”

“Sure was.”

An awkward silence fell over the conversation as life continued around them, oblivious.

“So, uh, you wanted to see me? I hope it's not related to you being made a widow.”

“Oh, Arthur, it ain't like that.”

“Then what is it?”

Mary seemed to struggle with how to begin before she opted to just ask outright. “I need your help.” Nine years of silence and now she comes back asking for a favor. Arthur couldn't help but shake his head and chuckle. “Please, Arthur. I didn't know who else to ask.”

“That tells me you need someone roughed up or shot, is that it? Or you need me to steal something?”

Mary took a deep breath and started, “It's daddy. He-”

“Your father?! You should've just let me walk by,” Arthur interrupted. He turned and started down the street, but stopped after Mary called after him.

“Arthur, don't make me beg you!”

He pivoted to face her. “You want me to help your  _ father _ ? The same man that always came between us? The one who always looked down on me? We could've been something if it weren't for him and you know it.”

“Please...”

“No.” He stepped forward again and lowered his voice so only she could hear him. “No, you can't just come back into my life and reopen old wounds like this. It's not fair.”

“Well you weren't always fair to me either. I wanted to be with you Arthur, I did.”

“But your daddy told you not to...”

“No, you wouldn't leave your gang!,” she shot back, just a bit louder than Arthur would've liked. Passerby were minding their own business, but he didn't want to get called out or recognized in the middle of this city full of lawmen.

“Look,” Arthur stepped closer so they could avoid any more unwanted attention, “I loved you Mary. I know we was young but I was ready to marry you. I wanted to make an honest woman of you. And do you know what you said to that?”

She lowered her face and said nothing. Of course she remembered.

“You said, 'how can you make an honest woman out of me when you're not even an honest man yourself?'” He stared at her, daring her to contest the fact, but she couldn't even meet his gaze.

“I... we were so young,” she tried.

“You hurt me, Mary,” he replied softly. “And I've healed, but we need to stop hurting each other. Whatever there was between us... it's done now.”

She fidgeted with her hands before finally looking up at him. “Then help me as a friend, and not as... whatever we were. Can you do that?”

He hated seeing her distraught like this, but unfortunately it wasn't the first or even second time in their lives he'd seen her like this, pleading with him to do something he couldn't.

With a low voice, barely louder than a whisper he replied, “I can't.”

They stood there on the sidewalk, both staring down at the ground for what felt like a full minute.

“I understand. I'm sorry.”

“Me too.” He looked around. Albert was long gone and Arthur wasn't too familiar with this part of the city, but he wanted to be anywhere else but here. “Be well, Mary,” was all he said before taking off in the same direction he was originally heading.

“You too, Arthur.” Mary lingered a moment before heading back inside the hotel. Arthur hoped she didn't see him wipe at his eyes with the palm of his hands.

* * *

He had no luck finding this supposed gallery, so Arthur just returned to Albert's hotel just outside the city and sat on the bench out front. There were a hundred thoughts swirling around his head. Normally he would try to focus them into his journal, but there was just too much to process about what just happened and they needed more time to stew before he could make sense of it all.

He was so in his own head in fact that Arthur had no idea how much time had actually passed before he noticed Albert strolling down the street looking absolutely pleased with himself. Apparently it was long enough for Albert to be surprised.

“Arthur! I didn't think you'd stick around waiting.”

“Seemed rude to head out of town without saying goodbye first. How'd it go?”

“Well! At least I think so. Monsieur Laurent said he'd sleep on it and let me know in a day or two, but I think I made a good impression.”

Arthur stood up from the bench and stretched out his back. “Glad to hear. You can tell me about it over some whiskey, I need a drink.”

“Sounds like you had quite a different day than I did.”

Arthur sighed and said, “Yeah, I'll tell you all about it.

* * *

They ended up back in that same dingy old bar Albert had taken them the first time, Doyle’s Tavern. It was a livelier crowd in the front this afternoon, so they opted for the sole table in the back room. There was a piano, but no one was playing it at the moment and Arthur swore he saw one of the largest rats he'd ever seen in his life dart under it.

“I still can't believe you like this place.”

“Would the good gentleman prefer if we retired to a more reputable establishment? I could provide a veritable  _ milieu _ of local recommendations.”

Arthur pointed a finger at him across the table, “You stop that.” Albert smirked, clearly pleased with himself before taking a sip of his gin.

“And  _ that _ is exactly why I come here; so I don't have to put up that act. Especially after that interview...”

“So you're thinking you've got an in at this gallery?”

“I do. Again, he said he'd let me know in a day or two, but I got the sense that he tells that to everyone who ends up showing their work in that gallery. If… no,  _ when _ he accepts my portfolio, then we'll negotiate how much of the ticket sales get kicked back to me.”

“Hell, I didn't know you'd be getting paid for it, I thought you'd be paying  _ him _ .”

“So did I!”

They shared some laughter before Arthur threw back the rest of his whiskey and got up to order some more. There was a small window that looked into this back room from behind the bar which he found awfully convenient. He came back with two glasses of whiskey and set one in front of Albert. “Here, forget that gin, this'll put hair on your chest.”

With a chuckle, Albert replied, “I have plenty already, but thank you.” Maybe it was the liquor but the comment stirred something in Arthur and he caught himself glancing at the several hairs poking out from under the undone top button of his shirt as his friend tilted his head back to try the new drink. He set it down, not even finishing half of the drink and exhaled sharply. “My god, that is  _ strong _ . Are you sure you didn't give me moonshine just now?”

Arthur quickly composed himself and cleared his throat. “Ah, no. Why, you want some? I think I know a guy...”

“Of course you would. No, I'm just being reminded of why I stick to gin.”

“Well if you're not gonna finish it...” He reached forward and dragged it back to his side of the table and finished the rest of it off. This earned him a slightly concerned look from Albert.

“Are you alright, Arthur?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You seem like you're drinking just to forget something.”

Arthur stared at the drinks in front of him. “And what do you know about that?”

“That it never works.” Arthur was surprised by the sudden somber tone in his voice, but Albert didn't expand on his personal experiences. “This is about that woman earlier today, isn't it?”

Arthur simply nodded.

“I won't pry, it's none of my business, but I don't think this is the right way to handle it.”

At this point Arthur was only moderately tipsy and feeling good, nowhere near “getting kicked out of the Valentine saloon with Lenny” drunk, but the night would clearly end up there if he didn't stop himself. He sighed and drummed his fingers on the table. “I had no idea she was in this city.”

“You don't have to go into it if you don't want to.”

“No, I do. I want you to know, it's only fair.” He adjusted himself in his seat as he thought about where to even begin. “We were lovers once, long time ago.”

“And it didn't work out?,” Albert offered.

“Not for lack of trying. I proposed to her and she turned me down. Should've known then to break it off, but we tried to make it work for a few more months. Ended up just making it all worse.”

“How long is 'a long time ago?'”

“God, nine or ten years at this point?”

“Christ, you must've been young.”

“We were, but it felt right, at least in the beginning. Before her father convinced her I wasn't good enough.”

“So she knew about your, um, ... _ background _ ?”

Arthur chuckled.  _ What a delicate way to put it. _ “Yeah, her whole family knew.”

“So what happened today?”

“She comes waltzing back into my life asking for help dealing with her father of all people. I told her I'd be a fool if I did, so I just left her there.”

“Well I'm sorry I took you down that street then. The whole scene was surreal from my perspective; I've never seen you freeze up like that and had no idea why you knew a woman who was staying at the most expensive hotel in the city.”

“It ain't your fault, neither of us knew she was there.” Arthur looked at his pocket watch. If he was no longer planning on getting blackout drunk tonight, he still had maybe three hours of daylight if he headed out now to pick up his search. “Anyway, enough of that. What are your plans the next few days?”

“Waiting to hear back from Laurent, obviously, but I also met a fellow recently. A hand from Emerald Ranch who came into the city for some supplies. He's got two thoroughbreds he's looking to sell and he wants me to photograph them so he can put an advertisement up in the newspaper.”

“So you're heading back up that way? You sure you're not just looking for that zebra that whackjob told us about?”

Albert smiled and put up a finger in protest, “I am going up there for a job. It just so happens that if I do come across any exotic fauna, I'll be able to capture it's likeness. And that's all I will say on the matter.” Arthur just rolled his eyes. “What about you?”

“I'm gonna try sticking to Lemoyne this time. Maybe my people from my  _ background _ ended up further south than I thought,” making sure to put extra sarcasm on the new code word.

“Would you prefer if I just started openly calling you a criminal to your face out in public? I'm just trying to protect  _ you _ for once.”

Arthur stood up and put his hat back on, slapping Albert on the back as he left the bar. “I'm a big boy, I don't need protecting no more. Take it easy, Al.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first playthrough of the campaign I rejected Mary both times because I was running a low-honor Arthur, but the second time around she grew on me as a character. Don't worry, this isn't the last we'll see of her.


	8. "I didn't know what to think"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur finally finds the rest of the gang.

_ 6/27/99 _

_ Still haven’t found the rest of the gang, but haven’t seen any mention of them in the papers either. Just gotta keep looking. _

_ Ran into Mary Linton in Saint Denis today while I was visiting Albert. Like seeing someone from a past life. She asked for help with her father and I told her no. Later I thought maybe I’d been too rude towards her, but it’s too late now. _

_ [Sketch of the Hôtel la Licorne] _

* * *

Lemoyne wasn't all city and swamps, there were parts that Arthur actually found beautiful from a natural point of view. It was just unfortunate that these parts were filled with some of the worst people in the state from the despicable and idealistic Lemoyne Raiders to the rude and sometimes backwards people of Rhodes. So long as he kept to himself however, it was almost pleasant, and summer warmth, however humid, was certainly a welcome change from the blizzard they had weathered up in the Ambarino mountains just a few months earlier. The same evening he left Saint Denis, Arthur headed west to this stretch of the country to continue his search.

It was late, almost midnight, but Arthur wasn't too tired to stop yet and Ivy wasn't protesting too much either. While this was mostly flat land, there were some gently rolling hills that he could get a vantage point from. He slowed Ivy atop one of these spots and caught sight of a campfire about half a mile to his left. He took out his binoculars and tried scoping it out. There was just a simple lean-to, no visible people, but a single horse, an Appaloosa, with a distinct speckled pattern was idly grazing near the fire. He could've sworn it was Taima, Charles' horse, but would have to get closer to make sure. He decided it was worth the risk.

Arthur and Ivy approached gently, careful not to make too much noise in case it was a completely different horse, but upon getting closer, he was sure it was her. Arthur dismounted Ivy and walked closer to the little campsite. The lean-to was closed, so Charles was likely sleeping. No sense in waking him up, Arthur figured. He approached Taima who lazily flicked her tail but didn't flinch at his approach. As he pet her neck Arthur softly cooed, “Hey girl, remember me?”

“Hands up.” The sound of metal clinking came from behind him. Arthur slowly raised his hands.

“You gonna shoot me in the back, Charles?” He dared to carefully turn around.

Luckily it was Charles, who soon lowered his sawn-off shotgun with a subtle smile. “No. Not tonight anyway.” He stepped forward and clapped Arthur hard on the shoulder, “Where the hell have  _ you _ been?”

Arthur winced as the pain shot up from where the bear had sunk its teeth in. The incident was over a week ago, but he'd long since removed the bandages.

Charles immediately noticed something was wrong though. “Are you hurt?”

“Let's just say there's a reason I haven't been around much lately,” Arthur said, rolling his shoulder.

“What happened?”

“I put myself between a mama bear and her cubs.”

Charles looked dumbstruck. “Why the hell would you do that?”

“It's a long story.”

“Well let me take a look while you tell me.” He was already walking towards the fire and throwing more kindling in to bring it back to life. Arthur knew it was more of a demand than a suggestion so he started unbuttoning his vest and shirt as he took a seat on a nearby stone.

“Buddy of mine wanted some help out by Strawberry about two weeks back.”

“Dutch mentioned something about that. Some kind of hunting trip?”

“Well that ain't all the way true. You see he's a nature photographer. More interested in saving wildlife than killing it.”

Charles was rummaging through Taima's saddlebags looking for something. “City fellow? Green vest?”

“You know him?,” Arthur asked, surprised.

“Didn't get his name, but I saw him about two months back when we first set up at Horseshoe. Damn fool was scaring away all the deer I was trying to hunt that day with his camera. I would've talked to him but Dutch asked us to stay low and avoid the locals.”

Arthur found that funny and chuckled, “That man ain't no local, he doesn't know the first thing about surviving this part of the country.”

Charles returned with some leather pouches smelling of medicinal herbs and fresh bandages, only just now seeing how bad Arthur's shoulder and upper arm were. “Jesus, Arthur. You're worse than I thought.”

“You wanna see what did me in? Hang on.” He dug out his journal and flicked through to the picture Albert gave him earlier that day of the bear on top of Arthur. He gave it to Charles who squatted next to the fire to get better lighting.

“Is that you?! Okay, now I gotta hear this one.”

Arthur recounted what happened after the last time he left camp, leaving out the parts about Micah and the shootout in Strawberry that they'd just missed. The whole time Charles worked up some mixture and gently applied it to Arthur's wounds that were supposed to help with the itching and scarring. It was cool to the touch and maybe it was all in his head, but Arthur swore it felt better already.

“Sounds like you've been busy. I'd hang onto that picture as proof though.”

Arthur was beginning to re-button his shirt. “Why's that?”

“There's been some rumors floating around lately about you. I didn't believe them, but maybe you could convince the others with that picture.”

“What kind of rumors?”

“That you ran off and sold us out to the Pinkertons.”

A flash of anger ran through Arthur at the mere suggestion. “Who the hell's been saying that?!”

“Who do you think? Micah.”

_ What a goddamn snake of a man. _

Charles returned to Taima to stow away whatever he had left over after seeing to Arthur's injuries. “You knew he was locked up in a jail cell in Strawberry, right? Well he got out and came back three or four days after you left.”

“Yeah I knew he was there. I saw him in that cell and left him behind those bars.”

“Why'd you do that? I know you two don't get along too well, but he's still part of the gang.”

“He wanted me to spring him loose in the middle of the day! I didn't wanna do it like that, so I told him to sit tight and I'd think of a different way. Only I never got the chance.”

Charles took a seat on the ground opposite Arthur with the small fire between them. “Do you know what happened out there? Micah made it sound like it was no big deal, but John's been completely shut down; he hasn't spoken a word to anyone since they got back.”

“What's John got to do with this?”

“'Bout a day after you left Dutch sent John out to Strawberry. Maybe he doubted you'd actually help Micah? He came back with Micah and without you, so I guess he was right.”

John was involved in that massacre in Strawberry? Micah absolutely would shoot anyone and anything that got in his way, but that wasn't John's style, not at all. No wonder he was all bottled up.

“I don't know exactly what happened, only that some dynamite was involved, they killed the sheriff and his deputies and about a dozen other people. Place was a ghost town when we got back to the hotel.”

“Jesus, sounds like a mess.”

“I'll talk to John when we...” Arthur only then remembered finding Horseshoe Outlook abandoned and empty. He had no idea where John even was. “Hey, where is everyone? Why're you out here alone?”

“The rest of them are fine, had to set up a new camp not too far from here. Pearson asked me to go out hunting earlier today, but I haven't had much luck yet.”

Arthur absent-mindedly picked up a small rock off the ground, inspected it and chucked it into the flames. “When I went back to Horseshoe no one was there but a few dead Pinkertons.” Charles just shook his head and rubbed his face with his hand.

“Now  _ that _ was a shitshow. We didn't even have time to hide those bodies, we just ran.”

“What happened?”

Charles readjusted his position on the ground to lean forward towards the fire. “One night, not long after John brought Micah back, we heard horses coming near the camp.  _ Lots _ of horses. We were surrounded. Someone from the shadows shouted that they were Pinkertons and if we gave 'em Dutch they'd let the rest of us go. Obviously we weren't gonna do that.

“When the shooting started it was chaos. We were just shooting blindly into the woods, outnumbered but we couldn't even tell by how much. They couldn't get close enough to do anything, but we were pinned down pretty good. It felt like it would never end. I don't know about everyone else, but I really felt like I was gonna die that night.”

Now more than ever Arthur wished he had been there. But all he could do was clench his fists now. “Jesus...”

“We were running pretty low on ammo when they finally pulled back. It sounded like they were heading back to Valentine to get the local Sheriff and all his men involved. That was our only chance, so we packed up and got the hell out of there.”

“We lose anyone?”

Charles shook his head, “No, thankfully. Javier took a bullet to the shoulder though, he won't be firing a gun any time soon. Micah took one to the hip and Lenny got hurt when a lantern next to him exploded, but they'll all live.”

“I'm sorry I wasn't there.”

“Consider yourself lucky that you weren't.” They were both quiet then, not really much else to say. After some minutes, Charles got up and dusted himself off. “Tell you what, you still got that bow I gave you? We'll go hunting in the morning and I'll take you back to camp with some game as a peace offering.”

“Sure. Why do I need a peace offering though?”

“I don't know that Dutch has made up his mind yet on whether or not you sold us out. He's got Micah whispering in one ear and Hosea denying it in the other.” That sent fear and anger running through Arthur's head at the same time.

“Sounds like we need to have a chat then.”

“Sounds like it.” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder to his tent, “I'm heading in for the night, you mind taking the first watch?”

“Yeah, sure.”

* * *

The following morning they managed to score two deer in under an hour, clean kills, too. Charles joked that if nothing else, Pearson would be thrilled to see Arthur back now. He led them west, close to the coastline of Flat Iron Lake, and Arthur realized that his first guess where the gang had run off to was way off. Of course they wouldn't stay in New Hanover, he didn't know why he didn't assume they'd jump the state line.

Charles led them down a narrow wooded path when Sadie called out to them.

“Who's there?”

“It's Charles and Arthur.”

“Arthur? Well I'll be!” They slowed their horses as they neared her and she looked pleased to see Arthur. She'd ditched the dress one of the girls had given her and was wearing a yellow button down shirt and pants held up with suspenders. Most notably though was that she was holding a carbine repeater like it was second nature.

“They got you on guard duty now, Mrs. Adler?”

“I asked for it! No one makes  _ me _ do anything.”

Over his shoulder Charles mentioned, “She picked up a gun and started helping as soon as things went south at Horseshoe. Damn good shot too.” Sadie humbly tipped her hat and smiled.

“Well how 'bout that? I'll feel safe with you watching over us.”

“Good to have you back Arthur. We’ll catch up later.” As she turned her attention back to the road they came down, Arthur made a mental note that she seemed genuinely happy at his return. She probably didn't believe Micah's rumors then, but who else did? He hated that he was already sorting the gang into “allies” and “rivals”; they all should've been “family.”

They dropped the two deer off at Pearson's wagon and he was positively thrilled at the prospect of cooking with good meat for the first time in days. Seemed happy to see Arthur too, for what that was worth. Arthur immediately made way for Dutch's tent, and although Charles was following behind, he called out ahead.

“Hey Dutch, look who I found!”

The flaps of his large tent were closed but Dutch soon emerged with Hosea exiting right behind him. They both had tense looks on their faces, as if they were just having an argument, but they both softened at the sight of Arthur. Hosea was the first to speak, as he stepped forward.

“There he is! See, Dutch? I told you he was too stubborn to leave the life. How'd you find us, son?”

“I ran into Charles here out near Rhodes. Filled me in on what I missed.”

“You did miss a lot,” Dutch responded solemnly. He had his arms crossed and made no effort to bridge the gap between them, instead letting his body language do most of the speaking for him.

“Didn't mean to. I got hurt real bad out west and by the time I could ride again you boys had gone.”

A look of concern spread across Hosea's face as he asked, “You were hurt? What happened?”

“Show 'em the picture, Arthur,” Charles suggested. Arthur knew this was coming so he pulled the photograph out of his journal and held it out. Dutch finally stepped forward and took the picture to examine it for himself. His eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise once he got a look at it, and Hosea had a similar reaction when it was his turn.

“Christ, that's bigger than the bear you and I tried tracking down...”

“You survived this?”

“Barely. My friend I was with saved my life. Scared the thing off with the flash from his camera.”

Dutch narrowed his eyes and leveled a look at Arthur. “Why didn't he use his gun? Wasn't this a hunting trip?” Mentally, Arthur reeled. It would've been a damned good question, if it were a real hunting trip. He didn't know how to respond, and in the pause it showed on his face.

Luckily, Hosea intervened with, “What does it matter, it worked, didn't it? He's here now and that's what counts.” He handed the photograph back to Arthur and continued, “So I guess that's what laid you out for the past week. How are you feeling now?”

“Better, I'll be back to normal in a few days.”

“Glad to hear it! We're already cooking up some new schemes I want you to take part in. Which reminds me, Charles, do you have a moment? You've heard of the Braithewaites, correct?” Hosea put a shoulder on Charles and deftly steered him away from the other two, effortlessly launching into some sort of sales pitch for a favor he was asking Charles. When they were alone, Dutch extended an arm behind himself, pulling back one of the tent flaps.

“Arthur, when you've got a moment.” That meant ' _ now _ ' and Arthur knew it, so he diligently stepped inside.

Everything inside looked the same as it had when it was set up at Horseshoe Overlook, though Molly was missing. Dutch took a seat in a chair, but Arthur chose to keep standing.

“I'm assuming Charles told you about this ugly rumor going around about you?”

He wanted to restrain himself, but he let himself get emotional and it still came out harsher than he'd meant it to. “Dutch, I'd never sell you out. I had nothing to do with those Pinkertons! Nothing!” He wasn't full-on shouting, but it'd be easy for pretty much anyone in camp right now to eavesdrop. Dutch met his energy with that slow, calm-but-stern demeanor that always threatened to spill over into his own outburst.

“I never said you did.”

“Were you thinking it?” Dutch held his eyes for a moment.

“I didn't know what to think. The Pinkertons found us somehow and you weren't around to help. Those were the only facts I had at the time.”

“Well now you got some more facts. I didn't tell no one where we were.” Again, Dutch paused and stared at Arthur before continuing.

“Alright. I believe you. Though I don't want you going on any more of these crazy bear-hunting trips.”

Arthur huffed. “I'm not too keen on doing that again anyway.” He turned, but Dutch spoke before he exited the tent.

“That's not why I brought you in here.”

Arthur didn't turn around, but just closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “This about Micah?”

“No, but let's talk about that. What happened up there? He says he saw you the day before he got out.”

At this, Arthur turned around. “I did. He wanted to make a scene in the middle of the day and I didn't. I told him I'd come back with a plan to do it quiet, but that's when I got hurt... You sent John because you didn't think I'd do it, didn't you?”

Dutch chose not to address the present question and just pointed with his finger. “That. _That_ is why I wanted to speak with you. John. He's been so quiet ever since that happened that I think he's gone mute. So now Abigail is furious because the father of her son won't speak to her, she keeps coming to  _ me _ with her frustrations and everyone else is walking on eggshells around here. I need you to talk to him.”

“Why me?”

“Because you're the only one that really understands him. He talks to me, but only because he feels like he has to. Snap him out of it so we can all get on with our lives, there's still money to be made out here.” There it was.  _ Money. _ The central tenet of every single thing Dutch has ever cared about. Arthur wordlessly nodded and stepped out of the tent, uninterrupted this time.

* * *

Sure enough, John was out at the farthest point of the shore that could still be considered part of the camp. He didn't have a gun, so he wasn't on guard duty. It was about midday when Arthur strolled up next to him, looking out over the lake at the horizon.

“What's on your mind, Marston?”

John turned at the new voice, apparently expecting it to be someone else. “Arthur? You're back?”

“You almost sound disappointed.”

“No, I'm not! Just didn't know how long it'd take for you to find us again.”

Arthur wanted to make a quip about only being gone for a week instead of a full year like John had once done, but he bit his tongue. “Not for lack of trying. Spent the past few days up by Annesburg thinking you'd gone up that way.”

“I don't think we had any idea where we'd end up that night as long as it was 'away.'”

“Heard about that mess. How's Jack taking it?”

John shrugged. “Don't know. Haven't spoken to him or Abigail much since it happened.”

“Why not?” This was the tightrope act Arthur always had to perform in serious conversations with John, all their lives. Show too little interest, he'd never offer anything up on his own. Show too much, and he'd get suspicious and shut down. Arthur knew this game because he knew he treated others the exact same way.

“Just... got a lot on my mind.”

“I bet.” He took a deep breath before saying, “I heard about what happened in Strawberry.

John glanced to his right to get a good look at Arthur. “Where the hell were you? I thought you were supposed to be there?”

“I was, but it sounds like I left right before you go into town. Had some business with a friend that ended up taking longer than I thought it would.” John scoffed.

“You don't have any friends. Not outside the gang you don't.”

“Do too!," Arthur shot back. "You don't know what I do with my free time.” John smirked at the reaction and looked back over the lake.  


“Guess I always just imagined you going out to 'be with nature' or whatever. I know you don't like towns and cities and you definitely can’t come up with your own schemes like Hosea or Trelawny.”

“I keep myself busy. This last trip was bad though. When I got back to Strawberry I needed a doctor. Poor guy had his hands full; said over a dozen people died the day before.” He aimed a careful sideways glance at John, hoping not to prematurely end the conversation.

Thankfully, John offered to continue on his own. “Horseshoe? That night with the Pinkertons? That was bad, but Strawberry was worse.”

Arthur returned his gaze to the horizon, watching a man in a rowboat cast a fishing line from several hundred feet away. “Wanna talk about it?”

“It was supposed to be quick. You know the layout of that town; we were gonna blow the wall, run past the hotel and head north out of town. I even had a spare horse ready for him right there. We didn't even have to go past the front of the sheriff's office!”

“What’d he do?”

John looked over his shoulder back at camp, presumably to see if anyone was listening. “I tossed him a gun to protect himself and he immediately shoots the guy sharing the cell with him. Granted, he was an O'Driscoll... But then he ran right into the middle of the town! We got trapped on a bridge for a bit and got pinned down from both directions. Imagine taking on an entire town and your only backup was  _ Micah _ .”

Arthur shuddered to think. John shook his head.

“It was us or them, but it didn't have to be. We slaughtered those people just so he could rob a specific house. I didn't see it, but I heard him shoot a woman in there. All so he could get his favorite guns back.” He turned to face Arthur. “That man is insane. But he's Dutch's favorite new toy, so what the hell am I supposed to say?”

Arthur shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Don't know. Heard he got shot though, that true?”

John grinned for a moment before fighting it back. “Yeah, right here,” he pantomimed, patting his right thigh. “He can't ride a horse right now, so he's just laid up by Bill and Javier's tent. Ms. Grimshaw is doing the bare minimum to keep him comfortable.”

“I always liked her.” They both chuckled and Arthur wondered when the last time John had laughed at anything. At least he got that much out of him. “So what do you make about his rumors about me?”

John pulled his eyebrows together in skepticism. “You selling us out? With _your_ bounty? No way. You're not smart enough to do that without getting dragged in yourself.” It felt good to hear his de facto brother say that out loud.

“Well thank you. For not believing all that nonsense.”

“Oh, don't get me wrong, I was confused. None of us knew where the hell you were, but I didn't think you had anything to do with them finding us. Someone slipped up somewhere back there, but we'll probably never know who.”

“Guess not... Well I'll let you get back to... whatever this is you're doing.” Arthur gestured at John's general vicinity as he turned and made his way back to camp.

“ _ Jackass _ ... Glad you're back.”

“Oh, and John? Do me a favor, would ya?”

“Hm?”

“Talk to Abigail. Or at least Jack.”

He just sighed and nodded without turning around. “Fine, give me a few minutes.”

* * *

After catching up with a few others in the camp and making a concerted effort to avoid Micah, Ms. Grimshaw showed Arthur back to his setup. It looked exactly the same as it had back at Horseshoe Overlook, just with a few new bullet holes in the canvas and side of the wagon, but at least none of his photos were damaged. There was a letter on his side table that simply read, “Arthur” in delicate calligraphy, no doubt Mary’s letter. He held it for a few moments before storing it in the trunk at the foot of his bed. He didn’t have the strength to read it quite yet.

When the evening started winding down and people started turning in for the night, Arthur made way for his bed. Instinctively he situated himself at the edge when he lied down before remembering that he wasn't sharing it with anyone tonight. He laughed to himself as he rolled onto his back, taking full advantage of the space. For a moment he wished Albert was there, but wasn't sure why he'd thought that. He chalked it up to just having gotten used to seeing him so much the past two weeks before sleep overtook him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love interpretations of John where he's emotional and gets in one of his moods™ and the rest of the gang is just all, "Like are you done? Like is it over?"
> 
> Also the gang members (barring some specific narrative moments) have crazy plot armor. Like you will take out dozens of enemies in a mission and there's no mention of the boys even getting hurt. I think in a long, drawn-out shootout it'd make sense that some of them wouldn't walk away untouched.
> 
> He wasn't around in this one, but there will be a healthy dose of Albert in the next chapter.


	9. "So how does that work?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation with Bill leads to some realizations.

_ 6/28/99 _

_ Found Charles out in Scarlet Meadows, and he took me back to the gang, in some new spot called Clemens Point. It’s right on the lake. Warm, too. _

_ Micah’s spreading rumors that I sold them out to the Pinkertons, and Dutch almost believed him. I cannot stand that man. _

* * *

Over the next two or three days, the situation the gang found themselves in became more apparent to Arthur. Apparently there were two very old, very rich families in the area that hated each other, and Dutch and Hosea were hoping to play them off of each other to profit somehow. Everyone was still putting their ears to the ground, finding out as much as they could before making a move, but that wasn't Arthur's strong suit. Instead, he ended up getting roped into an idea that John had been sitting on for a while. The plan was to rob a train full of rich folk headed from Saint Denis out to California.

John was in charge of getting the ammunition and dynamite, and had asked Arthur to get an oil tank and hide it near an abandoned shack north of Dewberry Creek. The idea was to push the tank onto the tracks and the train would slow itself down rather than risk an explosion by running right through it. The hardest part of any train heist was getting it to stop, so all this made perfect sense to Arthur and he actually found the idea kind of brilliant.

It was early afternoon when he was making his way from his bed to the horses. He hadn't left camp since coming back that first day with Charles. However, Dutch was lounging, reading a newspaper by one of the front tables near the horses and noticed him.

“Where you headed, son?”

“John tell you about that train job he's been thinking about? Asked me to get an oil tank, I was gonna pay our old friend Leviticus Cornwall a visit.”

“Not a bad idea. Take someone with you.” The delivery was innocuous enough, but they both understood it to mean, _I don't trust you._

“What, you don't think I can handle it myself?”

“I didn't say that, I just said 'take someone with you.'”

Arthur sighed and looked around. Bill was feeding Brown Jack by the horses and he was headed that way anyway so he called out. “Hey Williamson, mount up, you're riding with me.”

The other man scrunched up his face in confusion, “What are you talking about? You didn't tell me we were going anywhere.”

“Just keep our boy company, Bill,” Dutch called over from his spot. Bill looked back at Arthur and quietly rolled his eyes, clearly no happier to tag along than Arthur was to have a chaperone.

“So where are we headed?”

* * *

The two of them were squatting low, just at the edge of the tree line north of Cornwall Kerosene. It was an ugly little assortment of buildings making noise and pollution in the middle of otherwise beautiful country. If this is what the future looked like, Arthur wanted no part of it.

He also wasn't particularly fond of the sheer amount of guards posted around the place. He wondered if there had always been that many, or if that was a recent development after the gang had robbed one of Cornwall's trains a few months back. Bill was ready to go in, guns blazing, but Arthur decided that they'd wait until nightfall and try stealing a tank quietly, fighting their way out only if they needed to.

“So what the hell are we gonna do in the meantime? We got hours of daylight still left.”

“I don't know, take a nap, ain't that what you usually do this time of day?”

“Very funny, Morgan.”

“Do whatever you want, I'll keep watching the place, maybe make sense of their checkpoints.” There were a lot of wagons carrying oil tanks coming in and out of the place. If they played this right, they might be far gone before anyone noticed one was missing.

“What, you don't have any other orders for me right now,  _ Captain _ ?”

Arthur lowered his binoculars and looked at Bill on his left. “What the hell has gotten into you today? You're never  _ this _ stubborn.”

“Oh I don't know, maybe the fact that you ditched us for almost two weeks and you're right back to being the golden boy?”

“‘Golden boy?’ If Dutch wasn't mad at me, you wouldn't be here right now, watching over me making sure I didn't run off.”

Apparently this was the first time that had crossed Bill's mind. “Is  _ that _ why I'm here? Are you-” He was getting himself worked up and started coughing, which he quickly suppressed.

“Keep your damn voice down, we got a good spot here and I don't want 'em seeing us.”

They were both quiet for a few minutes, cooling off their tempers before Bill spoke again.

“So I never got the full story, where were you last week? Figured you finally ran off with that secret admirer of yours.”

Arthur thought back on the previous week and all the time he'd spent with Albert. He felt bad that he still hadn't contacted him, hadn't let him know he found the rest of the gang finally. He should write a letter soon if he wasn't going to be allowed to go to Saint Denis alone.

“You know, in a way, you're not wrong.”

“Really?” Bill seemed to straighten up from where he was sitting with his back to a tree trunk. “No shit. What's her name?”

Arthur chuckled and said, “ _ His _ name is Albert.”

“Wait, what? You've been writing a man all this time? I thought this was some lady you were sweet on.”

“I never said it was, you came up with that on your own.”

“Huh. Guess I did.”

Arthur thought back to that second night in the Strawberry hotel. The night he confessed to being a criminal and Albert admitted to his attractions towards men. The reason that confession was so surprising to Arthur was that he'd never met anyone who'd outright admitted to those persuasions; all other cases like that he'd ever known about were all surrounded by rumors and denial. It just so happened that he was sitting next to one of those men that everyone had long harbored suspicions about. He wasn't particularly close with Bill, but he felt like testing some waters and it wasn't like they had much else to do for the next few hours.

“He's a fine feller though, nice, for a city folk. Likes nature but it keeps finding new ways to try and kill him, so I help keep him alive whenever he wants to leave civilization behind.”

“You're friends with a city slicker? And one that actually likes nature? Strange.”

“That ain't even the strangest thing about him. Turns out he's one of those... I think he called himself a 'deviant?' He's got no interest in women, only goes for men.”

Bill looked away from Arthur, back down towards the main building and yard. Yet another horse-drawn wagon was making its way through the checkpoint to enter the site. “Weird.”

There was a palpable pause and tension in the air as Arthur stopped talking. It was like casting a line and waiting for a fish to bite.

...

“What was his name again?” Got one.

“Albert.”

“Albert what?”

“Why you wanna know?”

“I might know him,” Bill shrugged.

“You know a lot of men like him?”

Bill turned his head and scowled at Arthur. “What are you doing?”

“Just having a conversation.”

“No, you're not. You could've brought this up with anyone, but you waited to get  _ me _ alone to do it.”

“You don't know who else I've told,” Arthur shot back.

“I'll bet you 10 bucks no one else back at camp knows about this guy!”

Technically Charles knew, but he didn't know the part Albert had just revealed to Bill. Wasn't a bet worth taking.

“Alright, maybe I didn't tell no one else, so what?”

“So why're you only telling me? Say it.” Arthur was regretting this conversation, but it was too late now.

“'Cause I thought... maybe you'd know more about that stuff than anyone else I know.”

Bill seemed to be mulling over his own thoughts at the moment. It was a few seconds before he quietly responded, still with that anger in his eyes, “Maybe I would.”

“...So?”

“So?”

“So how does that work?”

“How does what work?”

“Two men! Two men... I don't know, being together. Like how do they know if they're both interested? You can't just come out and ask something like that.”

Bill huffed as if he found the question ridiculous. “It's not  _ that _ different from a man and a woman, you just gotta be more careful is all.”

“What, like there's courtship and flowers involved?”

“No, dummy, it's just... ugh.” He sat up and readjusted his sitting position so he could lean closer to Arthur. “If you weren't already sure about the other guy then maybe you'd try being friendly and leave little hints here and there. Talking about how you're bad with girls or just gave up on women altogether and stuff like that. Sounds like this guy just came out and told you though, he must really like you.”

Arthur could feel a blush coming on and snapped back to looking at the buildings. “Nah, I doubt that. We're just friends. Besides, he's always complaining about how much I smell.”

“You do smell though.” Arthur twisted around so Bill could watch him rest a hand on his pistol which was still holstered, for now. Bill threw up his hands and laughed, “Alright, relax! Jesus. I'm just saying he wouldn't've told you all that if he wasn't interested. So now you just gotta figure out how you're gonna let him down.”

A mental image of Albert making himself vulnerable in another hypothetical late-night conversation came into Arthur's mind. If all this were true and Albert admitted to having feelings for him, would that really be the worst thing in the world? Albert was a good man and a good friend. Hell, Arthur should count himself lucky in that made-up scenario, he hardly deserved someone like Albert with all the things he'd done in his life.

It must've been obvious that he was wrestling with this. Bill raised an eyebrow and asked, “You  _ are _ gonna turn him down, right?” Arthur just looked at the ground around them, fidgeting with the dial on his binoculars.

“Not sure,” surprising even himself with that answer.

“Huh… Alright, well look at it this way: you like spending time with him?”

After their first two run-ins out in the wild, Arthur started actively looking for the photographer every time he was traveling between places. That day in the bayou chasing and getting chased by gators, that first night they camped out in the woods outside Strawberry, even just sharing drinks in the absolute dingiest bar in Saint Denis, it was all  _ fun _ in its own way.

“Sure. Never a dull moment around him.”

“Does he like spending time with you?”

He'd written Arthur twice now, specifically asking to see him, but those were invitations, not demands. The day they ran into Mary, Albert had taken Arthur right into his room without a second thought, as if it weren't even a question. At this point they'd even shared two beds together.

“Pretty sure he does.”

“Here's the big one: is he handsome?”

It was strange to confront that question so directly, but Albert was better-looking than most men Arthur knew. There must've been some reason why Arthur kept finding himself sketching the man in his journal. Then there was that moment in the bar when he caught himself looking at Albert's chest hair.

“I mean he ain't ugly like you.” It was Bill's turn to reach for his gun.

“I  _ will _ shoot you, Arthur Morgan.” There was just the slightest hint of a grin behind the threat, but Arthur still feigned surrender, smiling.

“Easy there, slim... Yeah, I mean he's a put-together feller, but most city folk are." He plucked a blade of grass out of the ground absent-mindedly as he worked the question over in his mind. "It's not just that though, he's kind, actually has a sense of humor when you get him away from high society folk. Always smiling, and he knows what he wants to do with his life, unlike most people. Sometimes when we're out looking for animals he has this certain way that he... what's so funny?”

From the corner of his eye he noticed Bill was shaking. This wasn't another coughing fit though, he was just silently laughing to himself and shaking his head. “I don't know what you're so confused about, it sounds like you already like the guy.” This whole conversation had been strange and unexpected, it only followed that the conclusion would also be something he hadn't considered.

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck and agreed, “Guess I do, don't I? But how though? I ain't ever felt like this before, not towards a man.”

Bill shrugged, “Maybe it was always there and you never knew? Not until the right one came along.”

It was an interesting thought. Arthur didn't have the healthiest relationship with the concept of men as a whole. Arthur robbed men, killed them. Men had tried to rob and kill him. A man could be a mark and a threat at the same time, predator and prey, simultaneously. But he didn't feel that way at all towards Albert.

“Or maybe my brain just decided to give up and try something new.”

Arthur thought the quip was funny, and was surprised at how Bill snapped back at him. “ _ It ain't like that. _ ”

“Like what?”

“It ain't a choice.”

“Alright, sorry. It's all new to me.”

“Clearly.”

They both looked back to the buildings, watching another wagon, leaving this time. This was why Arthur had such a hard time getting along with Bill; he'd been running with the gang for about three years at this point, but whenever any of the boys tried ribbing him that temper would come out of nowhere. At least now he thought he had a better idea as to exactly why that temper was always lurking just below the surface.

After enough time had passed, Bill continued, “So when are you gonna see him again?”

“Who knows? I feel like Dutch is gonna keep me on a pretty short leash for a while.”

“Well what're you doing after this?,” jerking his head towards the oil fields.

“Dropping the tank off and heading back to camp with you.”

“Well what if you decided it was safer to stay with the tank to make sure we weren't followed?”

“Dutch wanted you to bring me back to camp.”

“He didn't say that.”

“You know he meant it.”

“ _ Did I? _ Everyone back at camp already thinks I'm stupid, you think I don't lean into that sometimes when it suits me?” Arthur was beginning to think Bill wasn't as dumb as he let on.

“You'd do that? You'd risk pissing Dutch off just so I can see Al?”

“What's the worst he's gonna do, call me a dumbass? Like I haven't heard that before... Look, it's just an offer, and you got plenty of time to think about it.” Bill leaned back into the tree and placed his hat over his face, signaling the end of the conversation while they waited for sundown. Arthur likewise settled into place, keeping an eye on the facilities below them.

“Sure, one thing at a time.”

* * *

Like pretty much everything else lately, things didn't go as planned. They didn’t make a move until an hour after sundown. Arthur got over the fence and next to the wagon holding one of the oil tanks easily enough, but Bill misjudged his balance and fell over the fence with a ruckus. They got the wagon out of the workyard only after attracting the attention of every single guard on the site. Arthur took the reins as they raced across the fields, Bill firing at the half-dozen men following them on horseback. It was a close call and needlessly reckless, but Bill eventually picked off their pursuers before anyone saw them approach the abandoned shack.

“You know what, Morgan? That was actually kind of fun! Maybe it wasn't a wasted day after all.”

“I still think you bungled that on purpose because you were itching to shoot someone.”

“I told you, I landed on an oil slick and slipped, I didn't know it was there.” Arthur still didn't believe him.

It was probably a little before midnight at this point and with clear skies and a full moon there was actually pretty decent visibility out tonight. “So, uh... I think I'm gonna stay here with the tank tonight. Make sure we weren't followed, you know?”

Bill was feeding Brown Jack out of his hand before making the trip back to Clemens Point. He looked at Arthur out of the corner of his eye with a grin. “Makes sense. I'll tell Dutch if he asks.”

“Appreciate it. Really.” He didn't know why Bill was doing this, they weren't particularly close like Arthur was with John or Charles, but maybe that had changed today. As Bill mounted his horse, Arthur continued, “and if you could just... not tell anyone about...”

Bill just huffed, “Course not. Who'd believe me anyway? Good luck, Morgan.” With that, he turned and headed south.

“And get Hosea to mix you up some ginseng, I’m tired of hearing that damn cough.” Bill just continued on without responding as Arthur went to set up his bedroll inside the shack, forgoing a fire that night.

* * *

Morning came, and like he usually did when sleeping outdoors, Arthur woke up just as the sun was rising. No sign of Cornwall's men coming through the area, so that was good. While falling asleep the previous night, Arthur came up with an idea in his head of how he wanted this day to go, and he didn't see the point in wasting any time.

Dewberry Creek itself was mostly a dried-up riverbed, but he managed to find a small body of water and quickly stripped down and washed himself with the one bar of soap he had in Ivy's saddlebag (god knows how old it was). Thankfully there weren't many people traveling on the roads yet at this hour. Finishing up, he dressed himself in a spare white union shirt he also stored with Ivy, but that was about all he could change from the day's previous clothes on such short notice. While chewing some mint leaves he pulled off a nearby plant, he ran a hand across his neck. He didn’t feel too much stubble because he had just shaved the day before, and just had to hope he was looking presentable.

As he mounted Ivy and made for Saint Denis, Arthur recognized that he was actually nervous.

* * *

After confirming that Penny was stabled up where she usually was, Arthur approached and entered the hotel confident that Albert was at least in the city if he weren't in his room. He had another strained conversation in broken English with the clerk, but at least she recognized him this time. She waved him upstairs and he took a deep breath before he knocked on Albert's door.

A few moments passed before the door opened. Albert looked disheveled wearing a simple shirt and sleeping pants. The room was pitch black behind him, but his face lit up at the sight of his guest. “Arthur, hello! Heavens, what time is it?”

“Little after nine, I reckon. You just waking up?”

“Yes, I was developing some new photos last night and guess I forgot to leave the curtains open; didn't mean to sleep in. Would you mind giving me a moment before you come in?”

“Actually, I was wondering if I could take you someplace today. Assuming you're free.”

A welcome surprise, judging by the look on Albert's face. “Sure! I had some errands to run but they can wait. Do I need to pack? Are we going far?”

“No, not far at all, I'll have you back before nightfall. Promise.”

“Should I bring my camera? You still haven't told me where you had in mind.”

“If you want. And it's a surprise, but I think you'll like it.” Albert studied Arthur for a moment, trying to decode this new little mystery.

“I think I'll leave it this time. I'll just be a moment,” he said as he closed the door.

“A moment” ended up being several minutes and Arthur tried to calm himself despite his heart beating faster than normal. Eventually Albert reappeared and locked the door behind him, looking like his usual dapper self. He turned to face Arthur and paused.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. You just… look nice today.”

Arthur looked down at himself and shrugged. “It’s just a new shirt.”

“Just take the compliment, Arthur. Shall we?”

“Ready when you are.”

They descended back to the first floor and Albert said something brief in French to the old woman and she smiled and waved. When they got outside he asked, “So, any luck finding your people? It's been a while since I last saw you.”

“I did. That's mainly why I haven't been around, just catching up and helping them out and whatnot. We're set up outside of Rhodes now.”

They had been walking to Penny's stable, but at this Albert stopped in his tracks. “Oh, please don't tell me we're going to  _ Rhodes _ .”

“You ever been?”

“Once, and that was enough.” He rubbed his hands over his eyes for effect, saying, “I feel like I have that red dust in my eyes just  _ thinking _ about that place. And the people were so rude!” Arthur chuckled at the unnecessary theatrics, but also at the fact that he would've reacted the same exact way were their places switched.

“Listen, it's a surprise, but it ain't Rhodes. I'll keep it in mind to never take you there though.”

* * *

Shortly before noon they approached their destination, a small sunken watering hole, secluded by trees in the middle of Scarlet Meadows. Javier had taken Arthur here a few days earlier to do some fishing, but he didn’t have much luck that day with his arm still injured from the Pinkerton bullet. Thankfully there was no one here at the moment, and it was noticeably cooler down in the shade, only a few strong sunbeams managing to filter their way down to the water’s surface.

“Oh, this is stunning. How did you find this place?”

“Friend of mine showed me. Said there’s good fishing here in the morning and dusk when the bugs come out.”

“It’s so peaceful. I admit, I usually just pass right through this part of Lemoyne whenever I head west. I wonder how many times I’ve ridden Penny right past this exact spot or one just like it.”

“Well there’s no cougars or gators or bears anywhere near here, so that makes sense.”

Albert began walking down the slope, closer to the water’s edge. “I’m not  _ always _ actively seeking out danger, you know. In fact, I could use a relaxing day off.” He peered into the pond, trying to see below the surface. “Do you know if there are leeches in this lake?”

“Doubt it, why?”

“Just want to rest my feet a moment.” He began shucking off his boots and socks, then gently lowered his feet into the water from the stone he was sitting on. “Oh, that feels  _ perfect. _ ”

Arthur wandered over and followed suit, sitting to Albert’s left. The water was warm and soothing with its gentle current. They sat like that for a while, just taking in the moment and surroundings.

“You know, I almost wish I had brought my camera, but I don’t think any picture would ever do this moment justice.”

“You wanna take a picture of a lake with no critters in it?”

“I think saving wildlife is important, yes, but the land itself is just as threatened. Imagine this place if there was a town built right there above that hill. It’d be packed with people and all these trees would be cut down for timber or firewood within a year. It wouldn’t be the same, and I think that’s a shame.”

Arthur always had a deep-seeded love for nature, planted there by Hosea when he was a much younger man. To most of the gang, nature was just a tool, a way to hide from the law and stay alive without needing to go into towns and cities. Save for Charles, most of them didn’t pay much attention to the inherent beauty of all the places they’d been to over the years. But now it sounded like Albert shared that same love for the outdoors in a way Arthur hadn’t understood up to this point, and that made his heart swell.

“I know exactly what you mean.”

“I bet. If you’ve truly spent most of your life traveling around this great country, I can only imagine all the unspoiled beauty you’ve seen. I envy you.”

Arthur said nothing to that. He looked to his right to watch Albert who was simply leaning back on his elbows, swirling his feet in the water, watching the occasional fish jump to the pond’s surface, committing the whole scene to memory. Arthur was glad he was enjoying himself so much and decided to steer the conversation in a different direction.

“Hey, Al. I never asked but… you got anyone waiting for you back in New York?”

“Just immediate family; parents and two older brothers. I just write to my mother mostly though, to let her know I’m still alive.”

“No one, I don’t know,  _ special? _ ”

Now he definitely had Albert’s full attention, who leaned forward off his elbows. Even here, all alone where it was just the two of them, he discretely looked around before speaking. “Ah, no. Men like me don’t typically have relationships in the traditional sense. It’s more like a lifetime of brief one-off encounters.”

“Is that something you’d even want though?”

He tilted his head to the side in thought. “I’d be lying if I said I never thought about it, and the idea is nice, but I’ve more or less resigned myself to not expecting one. I put my energy towards other pursuits, like my photography.”

Arthur tossed a small rock and skipped it across the surface of the pond. It was an attempt to seem nonchalant and hide how nervous he felt in the moment. “Well what kind of man would you see yourself with?”

Albert seemed to give it some genuine thought before replying with, “I guess someone who complimented me well. Someone with different skills so we could learn off of each other. Someone who was kind to me. And most importantly someone who could put up with my constant talking, I probably should’ve led with that.”

Chuckling, Arthur added, “Kinda sounds like you’re describing me.” In the following silence he dared to take a sideways glance at Albert who was wringing his hands together, looking down at the water.

“Pure coincidence, I assure you.”

Arthur felt like he was standing at the edge of a cliff and was about to leap off of it. Once he did, there would be no turning back. But maybe, just maybe, the jump into the unknown would be worth it.

“Maybe…  _ I _ could be that man for you.”

He leapt.

To his right, Albert was motionless for a few seconds before turning to face Arthur. He just shook his head and waved his finger dismissively. “This? This right here? This is a very cruel joke you are playing on me and I don’t appreciate it.”

“I ain’t joking, Al.” That stopped him again and Arthur continued. “I’ve been doing some thinking lately. About what I’m doing with my life, about what I want. Maybe I do tend to put others before me, but maybe it’s time I got something for myself, you know?”

He placed his hand next to Albert in the space between them, an unspoken invitation, before going on. “I like spending time with you and I’ll miss you when you finally leave. But while you’re still here I thought maybe… Maybe I could be more than just a friend to you. If you’d have me.”

A fish momentarily broke the surface of the water some twenty feet away, but other than that the scene was absolutely still and silent for several moments that stretched on to feel like minutes. Every second it dragged on Arthur debated whistling Ivy over and then just running away and never looking back.

“Or maybe I misunderstood something. I’m just talking without thinking, I shouldn’t’ve-“

He was quietened when he felt a very gentle touch as Albert placed his hand over Arthur’s, like he was doing his best not to scare off an animal. “If anyone misunderstood, it's clearly been me. I’m just… surprised is all. I had no idea you’ve been sitting on these feelings. And I certainly didn’t think you shared my…  _ persuasions. _ ”

Arthur rolled his hand around to face upwards, palms now touching and Albert wordlessly agreed to interlock their fingers.

“Maybe spending time with you helped me realize some things about myself. Things no one else ever did.” Their eyes finally met and he was relieved to see that warm gentle smile on Albert’s face.

“Well I think you could make me a very happy man, Arthur Morgan. More than you already do.”

He never stood a chance at fighting back the stupid grin that spread across his face. “I think I would like to try to do that.”

“You’re welcome to try. This is, of course, assuming everything you’re telling me is true.”

“It’s true, Al. I swear it.”

Albert held his chin up and smirked at him. “Prove it.”

Not knowing what else to do, Arthur leaned forward and kissed Albert. It was gentle and delicate, as if doing it too quickly would shatter the illusion of the past few minutes as something that wasn’t real and never could be. But it was also exploratory, like it was simultaneously something Arthur had done a hundred times before and never before. The sensation of Albert's beard brushed against his own was definitely a new sensation that stirred something within him.

When he pulled away, Albert was still there, the trees and the water were still there and everything was still perfect. Their faces lingered close as Arthur dared to speak again.

“Now you believe me?”

Albert cocked his head to the side with a mischievous look Arthur had never seen before. “I don’t know… Try that again?”

He went in again, now with more vigor and both of their hats were knocked off as Arthur kissed him like he wanted to prove how badly he meant it this time. As he felt Albert’s free hand run through the hair on the back of his head and they both leaned back onto the stone Arthur knew there was no way in hell he was making it back to camp that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is the "slow burn" tag like a protected title? It took us nine chapters and 37,000 words to get to this point, but I don't know if this qualifies.
> 
> Also I know most people don't like Bill because he's shitty and racist (both valid reasons to not like him), but the closeted+short tempered combination is absolutely relatable to me and in that way he reminds me of younger myself in a harder time of my life. I just don't see him used much in M/M fics in the fandom as a character to bounce off of and I feel that's a wasted opportunity.


	10. Always felt safe around you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Albert begin spending a lot more time together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The third time you meet Mr. Black and Mr. White (The "Ties That Bind" side quest) Arthur has a line that goes "I reckon you boys should get on out of here, maybe split up, head up north or overseas. They don't like... groups of men. I know." Always stuck out to me as a "hmmm, that's interesting™" moment, especially given how that quest line ends.
> 
> Anyways, bi-curious Arthur is canon-compliant as far as I care (a sentence I did not know I would be writing when I woke up this morning), and this chapter is basically "it's my fic, I can fluff if I want to".

Albert’s hotel room was dark, hot and stuffy. As Arthur awoke and got his bearings he could see to his left a thin strip of daylight coming from above the curtains that were left closed the previous night. He was lying on his back in Albert’s bed, with the still-sleeping photographer lying on his stomach, half-covering Arthur’s own body. Their skin stuck to each others’ with hair and sweat as the noisy, slowly-rotating ceiling fan tried in vain to cool down the room, succeeding only in pushing the hot air around.

Thinking about it, this situation wasn’t too different from that night in the Valentine hotel, there were just less clothes involved now. Maybe that night was an omen of things to come and Arthur was too dumb to notice. In any case, he found humor in the situation and as he quietly laughed to himself, Albert began to stir awake.

“Hmm… morning.”

“Hey.”

“You’re still here.”

“Where else would I be?”

Albert yawned and rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know, fetching me some breakfast? That’d be the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“Some host you are!” Albert rolled onto his own back, finally offering some separation between the two men.

“No, you’re right. I’ll fix something up on the stove if you want. Once I find the will to leave this bed.”

“You in a rush to do anything today?”

“No, I can take my time this morning… Speaking of, what time  _ is _ it?”

“Beats me. Those curtains of yours are dangerous.”

Albert looked over to the curtains in question and said, “I know, I really need to stop leaving them closed overnight.” Then he turned his head to the right, looking at Arthur. “How are you?”

“I’m well.”

“I meant how are you feeling? About…,” he gestured at both of them in the bed, “Yesterday. Last night.”

“I’m… I’m glad. Glad you didn’t turn me down. And I guess some things were different and some things were the same, but I don’t regret it.”

“That’s good. I was afraid you’d run off with cold feet and I’d never see you again.”

“Never. Not to you.” Arthur didn’t know if he was making a promise he wouldn’t be able to keep, but in the moment he meant it. “Besides, it was nice. You made me feel safe.”

Albert smiled and said, “Well that’s the least I could do. I’ve always felt safe around you.” Arthur’s heart swelled at the sentiment. And even though a voice in the back of his mind reminded him,  _ you are a bad man, you don’t deserve this _ , he ignored it and pushed it down to just enjoy the moment. He took Albert’s hand and absent-mindedly ran his thumb over it, trying to remember how it felt, how calm and at peace everything was that morning as they lay in that bed. There weren’t enough moments like this in his life and he wanted to stretch it out as long as he could.

His stomach began to growl fiercely with a mind of its own however, loud enough to get Albert’s attention.

“Guess that’s my cue,” he said as he dragged himself from the bed and began searching the floor in the dark for something to put on before he started cooking. Arthur stayed in the bed and indulged himself not only to be lazy, but to the view before him. Albert was lean in his own way; clearly didn’t have the look of a ranch hand or someone who did physical labor, but he kept active enough that you couldn’t tell that he’d spent most of his life living in a city. He was also quite hirsute, certainly more than anyone else Arthur knew well.

“You are one hairy bastard, Mason.”

His friend finally found some pants that fit, but was still standing in the dark room shirtless. Over his shoulder he asked, “Is that a problem? There’s not much I can do about it.”

“No, it’s just… That was one of those things that was different.”

“Is ‘different’ ‘bad’ in this case?” Albert was suddenly quite defensive.

He thought about it, and didn’t agree. There was definitely more friction between them last night, in the literal sense, than Arthur had ever remembered there being when he was with a woman. But it was just a new sensation, not a bad one. “I don’t think so, no.”

This seemed to put Albert at ease. “Good. Because if you were gonna tell me to start shaving everything below the neck, I would’ve told you to run out and buy me a machete to replace my razor.”

Arthur hadn’t laughed that hard in a long while.

* * *

They shared a light breakfast while Albert showed off the prints of the thoroughbreds up in Emerald Station he was hired for. He also showed another photo of a mule that was painted (poorly) to look like a zebra that he just so happened to stumble upon during his trip.

“Sheer coincidence that I came across this creature, I could scarcely believe it!” Arthur did not believe it.

When it came time to actually leave the room and start the day, Arthur performed his own personal scavenger hunt trying to sort out his clothes from Albert’s that had gotten mixed together on the floor the previous night. While he was confident that he had earned at least some of Dutch’s trust back, he wanted to make an appearance at camp to stamp out any new rumors that might’ve come up this time. Albert was likewise getting ready to begin the errands from yesterday that he had chosen to postpone. They both stopped at the door before leaving the room.

Albert spoke first, “When will I see you again?”

“Dunno. I’m closer now though, so it’ll be easier to sneak off and see you more often.”

“I’m looking forward to that. And I suppose…” He took a deep breath and let out the most sarcastic sigh he could manage, “If you want, maybe I can meet you halfway in Rhodes sometime.”

Arthur absolutely met his ridiculous energy. “Wooow, you’d really do that for little ol’  _ me? _ ”

“I said ‘ _ maybe _ .’”

They both smiled before Arthur went in for one last kiss. He wanted to take it slow, really making it count and thankfully Albert indulged him. When they parted he felt light-headed and was already craving the next one, but Albert opened the door and guided Arthur out before following and locking it behind him.

When they walked down and out of the building Albert was heading right into the city while Arthur made for Ivy who was hitched to the left. Out in the street with people around they said their goodbyes with just a hand shake, like the previous night hadn’t happened. Arthur wished he could have kissed him once more right there, but Bill’s words from two days ago rang in his head as a reminder.

_ It's not  _ that _ different from a man and a woman, you just gotta be more careful is all. _

As he mounted Ivy and started making his way back to camp his mind began to wander, the first time he was alone since his gamble the previous day. He knew he wasn’t the most intelligent man, but Arthur was no fool and he knew he was setting himself up for heartache. Whatever he had right now, it would not last. Albert would eventually go back to New York, probably not that much longer after this gallery showing. Or maybe the man would finally come to his senses and see Arthur for what he really was, a killer and a thief who didn’t deserve someone like Albert. There was no way that this could end without a broken heart or two, but in the moment, Arthur just wanted to have some source of joy in his life that was all his own.

* * *

It was mid-afternoon when Ivy took Arthur down that same wooded path back into camp. Up ahead he could see whoever was on guard duty was sitting in a chair with a repeater in their lap. Sure enough, it was Micah. Arthur could’ve wheeled around and gone to another entrance, but he knew he couldn’t avoid the man forever and it was better to just get this over with now.

“The golden boy returns!” Micah had a talent for saying words with absolutely no genuine sentiment behind them.

“How’s the leg?”

“I’m sorry to tell you that it’s healing nicely.”

“Aww, that is a shame.” He had barely slowed Ivy and rode her right past the chair Micah was sitting in.

“You know one of these days I’ll be in a position to save  _ your _ life. Let’s see what happens then.”

“Keep dreamin’.”

He dismounted and thanked Ivy for being a good girl and got an appreciative tail flick in response. Walking away from the horses he looked around and caught Bill’s eye, who was sitting by a small fire with Javier who had his back to Arthur. Bill raised an eyebrow at him, and Arthur just gave a sly thumbs up and a smile. Bill nodded before going back to his conversation with Javier.

He made his way to Dutch’s tent to make a donation to the lockbox and found the tent empty. Everything else in camp seemed normal, but it was unusual for Dutch to be missing. He scanned around and saw Hosea carving something out of a piece of wood, probably another toy for Jack.

“Hosea, you seen Dutch?”

“He’s out in Rhodes, schmoozing up the sheriff.”

“The sheriff? He turning himself in for his own bounty or something?”

Hosea found that amusing but shook his head. “No, the man’s a Gray, one of those two families we’re gonna try and rob blind. He also apparently has no idea the Van Der Linde gang was recently seen heading east. He’s a fool, but he’ll be useful to us.”

“If you say so. Just let me know when you need help with all that.” Arthur never enjoyed coming up with the gang’s various schemes, and he’d long relied on Dutch and Hosea to handle the planning. He went to turn towards his tent, but Hosea continued.

“Also, you’re welcome.”

Wheeling back around, “For what?”

“For sticking up for you. I think Dutch has finally given up on trying to control you.”

“What, all because I didn’t come back yesterday?”

“Precisely. Bill got an earful for coming back alone, but I managed to talk some sense into Dutch, at least temporarily. No more of this chaperoning nonsense, but try not to forget about us next time you’re gone for a few days.” He leaned forward, arms on his knees, and began focusing on whittling again.

“Appreciate it, Hosea.” The whole situation was surreal. Although Hosea had almost a decade on Dutch, Arthur had long looked up to both of them as father figures. Lord knows they were better fathers to him than Lyle Morgan ever was. But now there was this new tension that had never been there before, and he didn’t know if this was just temporary until their next big score, or if this was the new normal.

Arthur returned to his bed and treated himself to a rest before making appearances helping around the camp with all of the menial chores that seemingly never stopped.

* * *

_ 7/3/99 _

_ I had a wonderful day with Albert yesterday. _

* * *

For the first time in a very long time, Arthur actually fell into some semblance of a routine. One day he’d be out running some plan either Dutch or Hosea had cooked up, and the next he’d spend it with Albert, usually staying the night at his hotel if they weren’t camping outdoors. He was certainly busy, busting a moonshine operation in the swamps with the Gray sheriff and then spending a day in Saint Denis. Causing a scene in Rhodes giving away all the moonshine they’d stolen, then going swimming with Albert at a lake. Torching the Gray’s tobacco fields, then watching a moving picture show with Albert. Stealing some Braithewaite horses, then exploring an abandoned church at the edge of an old battlefield with Albert. It was a challenge juggling his responsibilities within the gang and pursuing his new and singular interest, but at least for a time he was managing it.

* * *

_ 7/5/99 _

_ Spent yesterday in St. Denis with Albert. Never cared much for the holiday, but the fireworks were entertaining at least. _

_ [Sketch of a truss bridge spanning a river. There are dozens of small figures on it and explosions in the sky.] _

* * *

A crowd was beginning to form on the bridge and while the structure looked modern and was made out of steel, Arthur still questioned its structural integrity. The sun had just set a few minutes ago so he couldn’t get a good look to see if the frame was buckling under the load.

“Why’re we coming out here again?”

“The mayor is having a fireworks display at the back of his manor tonight and I overheard some local fellow saying the public can watch it from this bridge.”

“You and half the damn city must’ve overheard this feller.” The gathering seemed to be mostly made up of the lower-class workers who couldn’t get invited to the mayor’s party. Lots of families, and the atmosphere seemed jovial, but he was still keeping an eye out for pickpockets. “What’s the occasion, anyway?”

They settled on the less-crowded far side of the bridge. Albert turned around to lean his back on the railing, hands tucked in his pockets. He looked at Arthur with a confused expression. “It’s July 4th. Independence Day, did you forget?”

“I ain’t exactly the most patriotic American.”

“That’s fair. But there must be  _ some _ facets of this country you must like, it is your home after all.”

A man bumped against Arthur and immediately began apologizing before the man’s wife scolded him and they continued on their way. Were he alone, Arthur would’ve given the man a piece of his mind.

“I like the parts without people,” he groaned as he set his own back to the railing.

“Those are some nice parts, yes. Maybe next time we can leave the city and do something else?”

“What’d you have in mind?”

In the distance over the river a mortar shot up into the sky. It lingered at its zenith for a moment before bursting in a sphere of red light. Shouts and applause erupted from the crowd as the show began.

“I’ll think of something later,” Albert hushed.

They stood there for a bit, enjoying the show. Arthur found the crowd’s reactions amusing on their own, but he allowed himself to be mesmerized by the lights in the sky all the same. This was definitely something he wouldn’t have ever done on his own, and he was glad for the company of the man at his side. Albert, for his part, looked to be having a blast when Arthur snuck a sideways glance at him.

He dared to reach down and brush his hand against the inside of Albert’s arm, an unspoken request. Albert didn’t look, but he removed his hand from his pocket and interlocked their fingers with a smile. During the show no one in the entire crowd was looking at them. For a few short minutes they were able to be in their own little world on that warm Lemoyne summer night.

* * *

_ 7/7/99 _

_ Went swimming with Albert yesterday at a small lake outside Van Horn. Reminded me of being a kid again. The better days, at least. _

_ [Sketch of a lake with a waterfall flowing into it.] _

* * *

Albert broke the surface of the water with a shout and slicked his hair back out of his face. “Oh my god, it’s freezing!” He looked up at a cross-armed and skeptical Arthur. “But I’ll adjust in a few seconds. Are you coming in?”

“You’re not exactly selling me on it…”

“Come on, we rode all the way up here, might as well enjoy it!”

“You said you wanted to come up here and take pictures, not go swimming.”

“Yes, that was the plan before the sun decided it was going to be almost a hundred degrees today. Besides, I’m certain I’ve scared every animal in a mile radius away.”

“Sounds like your problem, not mine.”

“Do I seem stressed about it?” Albert floated onto his back in the gently flowing water. The nearby waterfall did a good job of keeping the pond from stagnating so there weren’t too many bugs pestering them. “Well if you’re just gonna sulk about, you can watch my things while I enjoy myself.”

It was unusually warm, even for midday in the summer, and Arthur’s hat was doing little to stave off the heat from the sun above. The cloudless sky would offer no reprieve anytime soon and there was certainly no comfort in feeling his clothes stick to his back with sweat.

“Alright fine, I’m coming in,” he conceded as he began unbuttoning his vest. A few moments later he was down to his drawers and set the rest of his clothes in a pile on the bank next to Albert’s own clothes and camera bag. He only entered the water a little bit, up to his shins, trying to adjust to the cold.

“It’s easier if you just get it over with you know. I’m already comfortable.”

“Just let me do it my way, will you?”

“Or else what?,” Albert pondered with a mischievous tone creeping into his voice.

“Or else I’ll come in there and drown you myself.”

The threat wasn’t very effective. Albert merely sighed and stated, “Well, if that’s what it takes…,” before lashing a foot out and splashing Arthur’s front with frigid water. 

He recoiled from the cold for a moment. “Goddamn you, Mason!,” Arthur growled, but the smile on his face betrayed him.

“Uh oh.”

Albert rolled onto his stomach to swim away but Arthur lunged forward and grabbed his ankle. Soon they were both dragging each other under the water in a wrestle, occasionally letting the other break the surface for some air.

“I yield! I yield!,” Albert managed to gasp after a minute or two. 

“Good. Now don’t make me dunk you again.”

“I bet you’re not cold anymore though.” It was true, but Arthur just grunted dismissively.

Their bodies were still tangled, facing each other, but with Albert’s legs wrapped around Arthur’s waist. This let him lean back and balance in a sort of sitting position in the shallow water, just their heads and shoulders breaking the surface. They rested like this for a bit while they each caught their breath.

“There’s nothing dangerous in these waters, is there?,” Albert mused.

“I think your biggest worry is stepping on an old fishing hook or something.”

“No animals though? Like a biting fish or a snapping turtle?”

“Maybe a snake, but they don’t usually come near people. Knowing your luck though…”

This made Albert swivel his head around looking for any would-be serpentine threats as he paddled his arms to stay afloat. “That’s not funny, what if I got bit?”

“Then I’d have to suck the poison out before it reached your heart.” He stated it matter-of-factly but the comment earned him a skeptical look from the photographer.

“Does that actually work? I always thought that was just a myth made up for stories.”

“Naw, it works. Had to do it for my brother once.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother.”

They were well past the point where Arthur would lie about the gang, so he didn’t see the harm in sharing the story, maybe tweaking it here or there to make himself look more favorable.

“Not by blood, but we grew up together so he might as well be.”

“What happened?”

“This was a while ago. We were out west, all the way past Armadillo when it was still on the upswing. We were in a barn and John sat down in a pile of hay, right on top of a rattlesnake that was sleeping in it. Bit him right here,” Arthur explained as he patted the inside of Albert’s calf.

The truth was that they were hiding from the law after a stagecoach robbery gone wrong; it was their first job without Dutch or Hosea’s supervision and they immediately botched it, accidentally starting the stick-up in full view of a lawman. When John got bit, they couldn’t leave to find a doctor without risking getting caught so Arthur had to improvise. 

Albert didn’t need to know all of that.

“Then what happened?”

“Killed the snake so it couldn’t bite no more. Then I had to just suck the blood and venom out his leg and spit it out on the ground because he couldn’t do it himself. He ain’t all that flexible you see.”

“Isn’t that dangerous? Just sounds like a good way to risk poisoning the both of you.”

Arthur shrugged. “I guess, but it worked. The miserable bastard lived. Hell, I saw him yesterday.” Albert laughed.

“Oh, you really must be brothers if that’s how you talk about him.”

“Yeah, I bet you know all about that; you said you had two older brothers, right?”

Nodding, “Yes, Robert, the carpenter, and James, who is quite literally a mason, we love to tease him about that.” It sounded like he came from a working-class background, which Arthur wouldn’t have guessed.

“And Albert the photographer.”

“I know it’s hard, but try to imagine  _ me _ being the black sheep of my family.”

“What, the Masons don’t have a history of getting eaten by animals and jumping into beds with outlaws?”

“Surprisingly not, and I don’t know why; I’m having a grand old time doing just that,” Albert bantered with a smile as he looked into Arthur’s eyes.

“Oh yeah? Prove it,” Arthur dared with his own grin.

That was all the invitation Albert needed.

* * *

_ 7/11/99 _

_ Saw an old church, found it interesting. Not sure why. Pretty sure Albert took a picture of every damn stone of the place. _

_ [Sketch of a dilapidated building adorned with a bell and a cross.] _

* * *

The sketch was rushed, but he was still happy with how it came out. Arthur decided he’d caption it later because he didn’t want to lower his guard down for too long; in these parts he was more wary of Lemoyne Raiders than any wildlife they might run into. Didn’t help that the whole place gave him the creeps, what with it being right next to an old battlefield. Who knows how many men died on this very spot in that senseless war. Folding and tucking the journal away he started making his way over to Albert’s tripod, now set up in the fourth location within the past hour.

“You know I’m starting to get jealous of this place. You never look at  _ me _ this much.”

He hadn’t intended it, but he still managed to startle Albert when he began talking. That man really was in a world of his own when he was looking through those lenses.

When he regained his composure, Albert replied, “Well I see you all the time. But this? This is special. I don’t know if I’ll ever be back here again in all my life. I want to document it for posterity.”

“Oh, I ain’t special no more, I see how it is,” Arthur muttered under his breath. He turned his back to Albert and folded his arms.

But Albert wasn’t taking the bait and kept working. “You really have been spending too much time around me; you didn’t use to be this dramatic when we first met.” When Arthur just chuckled in response he continued, “I promise to shower you with attention when I’m done. I do want to get more shots from the other side though.”

Several minutes later they were in a more wooded spot, still looking at the church, but from a new angle and several hundred feet away. Arthur was thankful for the shade and the strong breeze that started to pour through the trees, but it looked like things were getting dark quick. He didn’t have a clear view of the sky with all the branches overhead, but he’d spent enough time in Lemoyne at this point to know how quickly the weather could change. The fact that he couldn’t locate the sun anymore was reason enough to worry.

“Think it’s gonna rain soon, Al.”

This was met only with a “Hmm mm” and a silent click from the camera as he took a picture without the flash.

“Did you hear me?”

“Oh, I don’t think I focused that properly, let me try again…,” Albert muttered to himself. The first raindrop hit Arthur’s shoulder.

“Al!”

“What?”

“Let’s get out of here, it’s about to start raining!”

Finally snapped back to the real world, Albert leaned back and looked up. He had to wipe a few raindrops away from his face after doing so.

“Oh no… I can’t get this equipment wet!”

“Well come on then.”

In the few seconds it took Albert to remove the camera from the tripod and store it safely in his bag the rain had set in upon them. They began running back towards the battlefield where the horses were hitched, but their clothes were already getting soaked once they emerged from the tree cover.

“We can’t outrun this storm!,” Albert cried. He was lagging behind Arthur because he was hunched forward over the equipment he carried in his arms.

“Let’s head inside!”

An abrupt left turn and a few dozen more feet of dashing later and they had made it inside the dilapidated church, or rather what was left of it. The roof and second floor had long since collapsed inward, but there was a small section that offered shelter from the rain and a place to catch their breath.

“Guess we can wait it out here.”

Albert was crouched over his bag, making sure the insides had not gotten wet. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, I was just so focused.”

“It ain’t your fault, that’s just how the weather is in this part of the country.” He looked out through a window at Ivy and Penny standing out in the rain a good distance away.  _ She needed a wash anyway. Get that Rhodes dust off of her. _

Albert stood up and walked over to share the view. “Still, even if we’d gotten moving just a minute earlier we might’ve made it. I don’t know about you, but I’m drenched.”

“Well then take off your clothes.” Arthur was already unbuttoning his vest and thought to himself about how he’d been doing this a lot around Albert lately.

“What for?”

“Ring ‘em out. They’ll dry faster if you’re not wearing them.”

Albert pondered it for a moment before following suit. He was spending a good portion of his disrobing looking at Arthur’s body however.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before, Al.”

“No, but I remember promising you extra attention to make up for the last hour and a half.”

Arthur rang out his shirt and set it aside on some ruined piece of furniture. “Yeah, about that…”

Albert walked forward and pressed his front against Arthur’s body. He ran a hand down Arthur’s back and spoke just a few inches from his face, “Hurt your feelings, did I?”

“Oh, I am positively  _ gutted _ .”

With a click, Arthur’s gun belt fell to the floor.

“Let me see what I can do about that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honey, this chapter was just tropes the house down. We got watching 4th of July fireworks with your summer fling, we got "I'm gonna splash you with cold water because you're taking too long to get in", we got "getting caught in a sudden summer downpour." It basically wrote itself but I promise there's plenty of plot coming down the pipeline.
> 
> Also, if you don't think Albert would've tried tracking down a rumor about a zebra, you're deluding yourself.


	11. The Philistine in the Gallery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albert invites Arthur to his gallery showing and an old friend shows up again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: the first iteration of this entire work I wrote Arthur's dialogue to use -in' instead of -ing (ex. "How's it goin', Al?") to try and imitate the accent, but that got old /real/ fast. I think this was the chapter where I finally gave up on that because it was obnoxious to read back on and my spellcheck was constantly like, "girl, what are you dOiNG?!"
> 
> This chapter is "it's my fic and I can fluff if I want to" part 2. Plenty of plot will be happening in the next chapter though, but for now let's just have some fun.

When he stepped out from the tailor’s shop, Arthur felt ridiculous with how he was dressed. He knew this day was coming and Albert had asked him to, “try being a touch more presentable,” for this gallery showing, but he still waited until the day of to invest in some new clothes. It felt strange walking in just slacks without chaps over them, and this dress vest and necktie were just a little too tight to be comfortable. He kept his riding boots however; no matter how metropolitan and civilized Saint Denis liked to consider itself, the streets were still filthy with horse manure and god knows what else every few feet.

He followed the directions Albert had given and found the Galerie Laurent with little trouble. Going up the stairs and paying the two dollar entry fee to the showing, he was met with a room that was more crowded than he was expecting, noticeably warm with body heat. Granted, the room itself wasn’t too large and there were displays in the middle of the floor as well as along the walls, but this was certainly a good turnout. He soon figured out this wasn’t solely Albert’s work on display though. It seemed there were two other local artists that were also here to discuss their work, a sculptor and a painter who did all the still lifes that were on the walls.

Scanning the room he caught sight of Albert at the far wall from the entrance speaking with a wealthy-looking couple. Arthur didn’t want to interrupt and assumed Albert would come speak to him when he was ready, so he just took his time and tried taking in the exhibits for himself. Even with his new clothes he felt underdressed next to some of these other guests. The girls back at camp would’ve had a field day pickpocketing this crowd, but Arthur promised to be on good behavior today.

As he was looking at a larger version of the shot of the alligator chasing him just out of frame, he noticed two women enter the gallery to his left. One of them he didn’t recognize, but the second was Mary Linton, wearing a gorgeous blue dress and fitting right in with this setting in a way Arthur never could or would. They locked eyes for a moment before Arthur quickly tore his away, looking forward at the photograph again. He tried to play it off, but he soon felt someone standing at his side. It was Mary, alone; she had let her friend meander the other side of the packed room.

“Looks like you do clean up nice after all.”

“Hello, Mary. What are you doing here?” He tried to strike a tone that was more curious and friendly than accusatory.

“I’m here to support a friend.”

He was certain that she would be mad at him after their last encounter, but she actually seemed amicable in the moment, at least in this public setting anyway. He turned his head to finally look at her properly.

“How’s you being here supporting me?”

She smiled and rolled her eyes. “I’m not here for _you_ , silly.” She gestured with her head to the far wall and Arthur looked to his right. This time Albert was speaking a mile a minute in a very animated way to a new man in a top hat.

“-that is a fair and valid criticism, and I acknowledge that, however I invite you to consider the possibility that-” The poor fool he was speaking to, even with his back turned to Arthur, looked like he was regretting this conversation and knew he was about to have his ear talked off.

He wheeled his head back around to Mary and asked, “You and Al know each other now?”

“Mr. Mason has invited me out for tea a few times now, yes. He’s keeping me good company during my stay in Saint Denis.”

Arthur didn’t know how to feel about that. Obviously they were free to do what they wanted behind his back, but he didn’t know why Albert had never mentioned it. “What kind of stuff do you talk about? It’s just about me, isn’t it?”

“Oh, Arthur, you’re not _that_ interesting.” For once, something they could agree on, but the way she folded her fan and lightly hit him with it… Mary was actually being playful for some reason.

Arthur turned his body to face Mary fully-on and said, “Mary, I’m… I’m sorry about how rude I was last time I saw you.”

Her demeanor dropped for just a moment before returning. “It’s fine, Arthur. It was something I needed to hear. In hindsight, you were the last person I should’ve reached out to for that business.”

He still had never brought himself to read the letter in his trunk back at camp, so he never knew what “that business” was. “Do you still need help with your father?”

She just shook her head gently. “Don’t worry yourself about it, please.”

“Are you sure? If you need-“

“Arthur,” she gently interrupted with a small smile. “It’s fine.” He regarded her for a moment before replying.

“Okay… So you’re not mad at me?”

She gently shook her head, “No, Arthur. We’ve been in each other's lives for so long now, I can’t cut you out now over something like that. I’d like to remain friends, actually try to keep in touch from time to time. If you would like that.”

He knew Mary. She was a widow now, and likely lonely, but if she was trying to pursue something real with Arthur again, he would’ve been able to tell. Instead, this felt like an olive branch, a veritable peace offering to start over as something different.

“I think I would like that, Ms. Linton.”

She hit him again with her fan, “So formal. I think these clothes are getting to your head.”

“They’re certainly not comfortable, I don’t know how you fancy folk do it all day.” He rocked the necktie from side to side in an attempt to loosen it a bit from the knot the tailor had strangled him with.

“Try wearing a corset…,” Mary muttered under her breath before turning towards the photograph on the wall before them. “So tell me about this one, were you with Albert this day?”

They made their way going back and forth across the room, taking in the works from the other two artists and eavesdropping on the other visitors to see how they were reacting to Albert’s work. The most memorable piece however had Arthur staring back at himself. He was dumbstruck, but Mary found it amusing.

“Don’t tell me you forced Albert to put this one up?” Arthur slowly shook his head, slack jawed.

“No! I didn’t even know he still had this one. He took this maybe a minute after I first met him.”

“You let someone take a picture of you after just talking to them for a minute?”

“He was talking so fast and he looked so out of place in the middle of the woods, I thought I was hallucinating.”

“You certainly look confused there.”

It was only two or three months ago, but Arthur could only barely recognize himself in the picture. Since spending more time with Albert he’d been getting better at keeping his hygiene and facial hair from getting out of control, and he’d traded out most of his clothes in the picture for a newer wardrobe. Up on the wall he looked more wild and feral. Fitting that he’d be in this gallery of predators then. He looked at the display plaque next to the picture.

_Unknown Outdoorsman  
_ _A. Mason, April 1899_

Before he could comment on it, the woman Mary had come to the gallery with finally approached and introductions were made. Her name was Eleanor, a Saint Denis local and friend of Mary’s that she was visiting for the month. Showing just how out of his element he was, Arthur went to tip his hat he wasn’t wearing, which made for an awkward but ultimately light-hearted moment. When it looked like he had a free moment between interested guests, the two of them approached Albert who was beginning to look a little worn out from the day.

“There he is! The man of the hour!” Arthur clapped him on the shoulder and shook his hand, beaming with pride.

“Hardly, I’m sharing the exhibition space with two other artists.”

“What, some weird statues and pictures of flowers? Your photos are the most interesting thing in here.”

Directing his attention at Mary, “Leave it to me to invite a philistine to an art gallery.” The two of them shared a laugh at Arthur’s expense.

“What’d you call me?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

“Albert, these photographs really are something else. I know you’ve been talking about them, but this is the first time I’m finally seeing them for myself,” Mary said.

“Ms. Linton, you’re too kind. But thank you, that warms my heart to hear it.”

They made small talk and discussed Albert’s potential future trips for a few minutes. Mary’s friend reappeared and tapped Mary on the arm before apologizing to the group and heading back towards the entrance. “We’ll have to discuss it more over our next brunch, but I’m afraid my friend and I have another engagement after this. Gentleman.”

Albert did that excessive bow and flourish again while Arthur just replied, “See ya around, Mary,” with a subtle wave.

After the two women left, the two men studied the room that showed no signs of slowing down in activity. Albert was dressed in some fine clothes Arthur had never seen before, but the dinner jacket was a little over the top; Albert was visibly sweating.

Dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief, Albert said, “My goodness, it is warm in here, isn’t it? I think I’ll need a break soon.”

“You wanna leave?”

“Just for a short bit, I’m still expected to be here for another two hours. It is the debut after all.”

“Well we don’t gotta go far. Come on, get some fresh air before you fall over.”

They went downstairs and found a small enclosed quarter that was quiet and well-shaded. A small fountain of a woman bearing a jug on her shoulder babbled nearby as they both sat on a bench and Albert took his jacket off.

“I’m sorry about that, I should’ve warned you she was coming, but I didn’t think you’d both show up at the same time.”

“Mary? It’s fine, we spoke and made up I think.”

Albert cast a suspicious look to his right. “Did you now?”

“Yeah. You know I’m glad I saw her if I’m being honest. I was rude to her last time I saw her. Glad I had the chance to fix that.” When he finally caught this look Albert was giving him, he said, “What?”

“You keep telling me what a horrible, no-good man you are, yet I never see him.”

“I pray you never do.” Albert scoffed at that.

“You are every bit as dramatic as I am sometimes.” He took a deep breath, held it, and slowly exhaled as he ran a hand through his hair.

“How’s it going up there?”

“I didn’t expect to run into quite _so_ much opposition. I had one man try to convince me we’d be better off without predators and I was forced to explain the concept of an ecosystem to him; not sure I managed to get through to him. Another gentleman tried to commission me to take ‘before and after’ pictures of animals he wanted to hunt. I turned him down and explained why he should stop hunting for sport.”

“Sounds like you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

“I always knew this would only be the first step of many, but I think I changed at least a few minds today.”

“Fancy folk have no business leaving the city and going hunting anyway. They should leave that stuff to the _unknown outdoorsmen._ ” Albert smirked as he watched the leaves floating on the surface of the fountain’s water.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, I bet you don’t,” Arthur gruffed.

“What I do know is that I wasn’t going to have any portraits of known criminals at my very first gallery showing. Why, that’d be almost as crazy as _inviting_ one to my gallery.”

“Heaven forbid.”

After glancing at his pocket watch, Albert exhaled slowly and stood up, draping his folded jacket over his forearm. “I should be heading back up shortly though. I could go for a drink after this if you’re staying in the city.”

“Not at that same dingy bar I hope. Dressed like this? That’s begging to get mugged.”

Albert looked around for a moment before leaning close to Arthur and whispering, “Are you saying you’d rather head back to my room first to get out of these clothes?”

“I bet you think you’re being real slick right now,” he whispered back.

“That depends, is it working?” Albert’s face was mere inches away from Arthur’s. But as Arthur instinctively pushed forward for a quick kiss, Albert smoothly straightened up tall and started walking back to the stairs that led up to the gallery.

“You goddamn tease,” he muttered into the empty air.

“I’ll see you in two hours, Arthur.”

* * *

_7/14/99_

_Went to Albert’s gallery showing yesterday. Never did feel much comfortable in fancy clothes or places like that but he was happy to see me there and that’s all that mattered._

_Mary showed up. Apparently they’ve been talking and becoming friends, unbeknownst to me. She did not seem upset with me with how our last meeting went, which was relieving to me because I would like to stay friends. But_ _only_ _friends. I cannot go breaking her heart again and I’m not sure I could truly give mine to her at the moment. It might belong to another._

* * *

Two days after the gallery showing, the partly cloudy skies were making for a warm, but not intolerable afternoon. Arthur had just finished splitting some logs for Miss Grimshaw and after a quick shave and rinse he walked over to the horses. He noticed Charles was brushing Taima next to Ivy.

“Hey Charles.”

“Arthur,” the other man nodded.

“You heading out or just getting back?”

“I was about to leave. You?”

“I’m also going. I’ll ride with you a bit if you want.”

“Sure thing.” After they both mounted up and passed Javier on guard duty he asked, “Where are you heading off to?”

“Buddy of mine wanted to go fishing off the Lannahechee, told him to meet me at a spot south of Van Horn.” It was a half-truth; Arthur would be the only one fishing, but the outing was still Albert’s idea.

“Is this your city friend?”

“Yeah, but we’ve been spending a lot of time out in nature. Hell, I should have him spend a day with _you_ , I bet he’d bounce all kinds of questions off you.”

“Is he the one you’ve been trying to impress lately?” The question caught Arthur off guard.

“The hell you talking about? I ain’t trying to impress no one.” Charles wore a subtle smile, an acknowledgment that he’d gotten Arthur flustered.

“Oh really? I haven’t seen Miss Grimshaw have to drag you to a bath in a while.”

“Well it's easier now that we’re right on the lake, it was different at Horseshoe.”

“You also bought new clothes recently,” he pointed out.

Arthur shrugged, trying to play it off, “I was overdue anyway.” Charles looked over with that same smile and a raised eyebrow before looking back to the road.

Sounding wholly unconvinced, “Okay.”

“So where are _you_ going?”

“Pearson asked me to go catch some more game for him to cook. I found a new spot that I’ve been going to for good hunting.”

“Whereabouts?”

“I don’t know if I should tell you, I don’t want word getting out and then it gets too popular…”

“Come on, you don’t trust me? You’re hurting my feelings over here.”

Charles chuckled and relented. “You know that abandoned town near the border? Pleasance?”

“The plague town?”

“That’s the one. The woods behind it are packed with animals. I think people stay away because of the history, but it’s perfectly safe at this point.”

Arthur knew the spot; he’d first come across it when he was looking for the gang after they left Horseshoe Overlook. He was debating taking Albert there for one of their day trips; seemed like the kind of thing Albert would enjoy with minimal risk of danger.

“Good to know.”

“Don’t go telling anyone else now, or I’ll know it was you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, friend.”

They continued on, bantering about random happenings back at camp and John’s upcoming train job before parting ways, Charles heading north and Arthur keeping east.

Charles always had a knack for noticing things, likely the result of spending more time listening to people rather than talking to them. But the fact that he was able to string together so much of what Arthur was doing off of so little was concerning, and his reaction to the questions likely only confirmed Charles’ suspicions. It wasn’t that Arthur was concerned that Charles would blackmail him or tell anyone else in the gang about Albert, but if anyone else was able to deduce what and who Arthur was spending so much time with, things could become complicated.

* * *

Albert was already at the pre-decided location when Arthur arrived. It was a small stretch of coastline along the Lannahechee River south of Van Horn, and the island Sisika Penitentiary was located on could be seen in the distance to the southeast. He’d set up near a dilapidated dock and an old wooden frame that looked like it was a shack at some point. He tried his best not to, but Arthur still managed to startle Albert upon arrival.

The day was beginning to wind down as the first fireflies began dancing on the river bank, but the two men had decided to spend a night in the outdoors rather than rush all the way back to the hotel in Saint Denis. Arthur promised to start helping set up camp after he caught one more fish for the day.

When he heard the sound of crackling wood behind him, Arthur looked back and saw that Albert had managed to get a little campfire started.

“There ya go! You’re getting better at that. Not too much kindling though, you don’t wanna smother it.”

“No, I’ve got it. It’s a technique I read about in a book.”

“They got books for everything these days…,” Arthur mumbled to himself as he turned back to watching the fishing line. He didn’t know how a book would have a better way of starting a fire than how Arthur had been doing it his whole life, but he wasn’t in much of a debating mood. Even with this unspoken agreement he forged with the gang that he’d be “off” every other day, the past two weeks had been stressful for him. Dutch always harped on everyone to keep a low profile, but these hit jobs on those two Rhodes families kept escalating and they were bound to get noticed sooner or later. Arthur just wanted to relax this evening.

Almost as if on cue, Albert appeared at his side, apparently satisfied with the status of the campfire as the sun began to set behind them. His mere presence was enough to set Arthur’s mind at ease. He just stood there, watching the ships slowly cruise up and down the river in the distance with their smokestacks leaving trails behind them. Arthur had noticed that Albert had been speaking less often when it was just the two of them. It wasn’t uncomfortable though, quite the opposite; he figured Albert no longer felt the need to fill every gap of silence with chatter, though he was certainly capable of doing so.

After about a minute, Albert cleared his throat and said, “I’ve been meaning to tell you, I think I’m getting ready to travel again soon.”

“Oh yeah? Where to?”

“Not sure yet. I just need to take a break from that city and get some fresh air in my lungs.”

“Ain’t we doing that right now?”

Albert chuckled. “Yes, but I’m going right back there tomorrow. I just want to do some more exploring, see if a change of scenery will spur a new creative endeavor.”

“Well let me know when you’re ready and I’ll tag along.”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary, it’ll just be for a few days and I don’t expect to be straying too far from civilization.”

For just a moment Arthur thought this was a warning, Albert’s way of saying goodbye without actually saying it. What if he was planning on going back to New York and just didn’t have it in him to break it off cleanly, whatever “it” was that they had between them? He pushed the thought aside, telling himself Albert wouldn’t do something like that.

“Okay, suit yourself.”

“Again, it’ll just be a few days, less than a week, I promise.”

In the ensuing silence, Arthur’s thoughts wandered to a gift he had gotten for Albert but had not given him yet. He figured this was as good a time as any.

“Hey, would you mind holding this a minute?”

Albert took the fishing rod, holding it like it was a wholly unfamiliar object to him and it likely was. “Where are you going?”

“I got you something, just sit tight.” Arthur approached Ivy and went into her saddlebags, looking for his journal. Behind him, he could hear the reel begin to spin.

“Oh! I think you’ve got one!”

“ _You’ve_ got him, not me!”

“What do I do?”

“Reel him in!”

“How?”

He jogged back over to stand next to Albert. “Just grab the reel and don’t let go. Once he stops fighting you can start reeling him in. If you start too early, you’ll snap the line.”

Arthur was no Hosea or Javier when it came to fishing, but he knew the basics and was trying his best to teach Albert in real time. Over the course of several minutes Albert battled with his newfound nemesis, ultimately triumphing over what turned out to be a perch that was just large enough that it wasn’t worth chucking back into the water. Arthur then instructed Albert how to properly gut it with the knife that Albert had the good sense to bring with him this evening.

“I’m making a true outdoorsman out of you. Bet you didn’t read how to do that in a book.”

“I’ll admit, I glossed over the fishing chapter...”

“No matter, we’ll be eating good tonight.” Arthur walked over to the campfire and began preparing the two fish he’d caught earlier to start cooking them.

“I almost feel like you planned that,” Albert said as he joined him by the fire.

“You saw how long I was standing there with nothing happening. I gave you the rod and you got a bite immediately. I think you got a magic touch or something.”

“Let’s call it beginner’s luck. So what was it that you wanted to show me?”

Arthur set aside his first fish and wiped his hands on his legs before reaching for his journal and opening it to the last page. He removed a loose folded piece of paper, looked at it to make sure it was the right one, and then handed it to Albert.

“It’s just a little something to remember me by. I wanted you to have it.”

The sun was fully set at this point so the fire was the only source of light around them. He couldn’t see what was on the page as Albert unfolded it, but he knew what it was. It was a sketch he’d done of the two of them out in the plains that day they found the bison herd. Albert was at his tripod. Arthur never got the hang of drawing himself, so his back was to the viewer, resting a hand on Albert’s shoulder. They were both looking into the drawing, towards the distant herd.

Albert scanned the page and smiled. “Arthur, this is fantastic. And look, they even got the rock formation in the background looking right. And that looks just like my field setup... And our clothing; how did you convey that much detail in your description?”

Arthur looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“Didn’t you commission this from an artist?”

“No. No, _I_ drew that.”

Albert’s mouth opened and he looked back at the drawing. He probably was only just now noticing the “A.M.” scrawled in the bottom right.

“You did this? For me?”

“You knew I did sketches, I know you’ve seen me before.”

Shaking his head as he studied the drawing more closely, Albert replied, “No, I had no idea. I always thought you were writing and it wasn’t my place to pry.”

“It’s just a little sketch I did, it’s not even one of my better-” Arthur was cut off as Albert slid over and threw his arms around his neck, pulling them in an embrace that Arthur returned. After a few seconds he questioned, “You alright?”

Albert finally pulled away and looked at the drawing again. “I am, yes. Arthur, you don’t understand. I was so afraid when I first left New York. Everyone thought I was making a huge mistake, myself included. I didn’t think I was going to make any friends in this part of the country; I thought I was going to come home penniless and with nothing to show for it if I came back at all.” He wiped at his eye with his thumb, still looking down at the sketch. “Instead I found you. You helped me accomplish exactly what I came out here to do and you just keep giving and giving,” he said as his voice began to break over the last few words.

In all of their time over the past two or three months at this point Arthur had never seen his friend get this emotional and it was starting to affect him as well. He looked down into the fire and shrugged, “You make me happy, Al. I just wanna make you happy too.”

Albert reached across and held Arthur’s hand. “You do, Arthur. Every day. Thank you.”

Arthur beamed and felt rewarded that yet another gamble had paid off. When his eyes met Alberts’ they both smiled and laughed to break the tension. There was a feeling between them, but neither was willing to say it aloud yet. There was no need to, no rush.

Arthur eventually pulled his hand back and skewered the half-prepared fish at his side. “Alright, alright, enough of that, we eating or what?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> philistine (noun): a person who is guided by materialism and is usually disdainful of intellectual or artistic values
> 
> I feel like Albert+Arthur isn't one of the more common pairings in the fandom and as there aren't as many works written for it (but more importantly, really all that much to Albert Mason's character in the source material), you start to see the same beats across all of them: the side missions themselves, the gallery viewing, the revelation that Arthur is also somewhat of an artist, etc. This work is no exception, and while I'm trying to write something meatier than a one-shot, there are just some things that are gonna look similar to other people's works. Basically what I'm trying to say is that if anything I write reminds you of someone else's work, it's probably just coincidence because it's like we're all trying to fit through the same narrow doorway at the same time.
> 
> Also, Charles is hard to write. He's a subtle character who doesn't use as many words as most other do, but I feel like it's too easy to write him laconic to the point of parody. Hopefully I avoided that.


	12. No loose ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang robs a train with one major complication.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've had the "Graphic Depictions of Violence" tag up on this work since launch, and this is the chapter where that really starts popping off. Nothing crazy gory, this isn't torture porn, but the source material is a Western so there's gonna be gunfights. If that's not your thing, I understand and I hope you've enjoyed the work up to this point.
> 
> Also this is point where chapter lengths are gonna get noticeably longer; the first eleven chapters averaged around 4,100 words, but from this point forward expect them more in the 6,600 word neighborhood.

_ 7/16/99 _

_ We’re supposed to do that train job tonight that John’s been getting ready for. It does seem old fashioned, but if it’s full of rich folk like he thinks it is, it’ll be a good chunk of money. I just hope the damn train stops and doesn’t blow up this oil tank with me standing on top of it. Definitely never foresaw  _ _ that _ _ being how I’d go out. _

* * *

Arthur closed his journal and put it into his satchel before beginning to inspect and clean his guns one last time. It was the middle of the afternoon on an overcast but still warm day and he was sitting on his bed at camp. He was so focused on the task at hand he didn’t even notice Dutch had approached the foot of his bed.

“You boys hitting that train tonight?”

Arthur looked up at him briefly before looking back at his shotgun, trying to buff out a scratch he didn’t remember being there. “That’s the plan.”

“You nervous?”

In truth, Arthur was, though he didn’t know why. This wasn’t his first train robbery, in fact not even the first one this year. But there were so many moving parts involved and so many ways it could go wrong. He had nothing to gain by showing weakness to Dutch though.

“Me? Nah.”

“Well allow me to be nervous for you then. It ain’t the seventies anymore. Hell, it ain’t the  _ eighties _ no more. It’s harder to hit trains these days.”

“If we could rob Leviticus Cornwall, I ain’t too worried about a bunch of rich folk. The lot of ‘em will probably faint once they see a gun.”

“Would certainly make it easier to empty their pockets.” They both shared a quiet laugh over that, for what felt like the first time in weeks. Dutch continued, “Who all is going?”

Arthur knew where this line of questioning was going already. All of their conversations lately had involved this careful dance of double-speak, of saying something without saying it, and he hated it.

“Just me, John and Charles. I think that’s all we’ll need.”  _ I’m not taking anyone else. _

“You sure you don’t want some extra muscle as backup? Micah said he’s feeling better, and I know he’s been itching to get back out there.”  _ Take Micah. _

“I dunno, this is John’s job and he’s been doing all the planning. I don’t want him getting mad I’m bringing more people in to make his cut smaller.”  _ No. _

“You really think three people can take on a whole train alone?”  _ Take him. _

“I think we’ll be fine. Besides, you wanna deal with John skulking around, acting like a kicked dog again?”  _ No. _

“No. No, I do not. Now that you mention it, I don’t think I ever properly thanked you for bringing our boy back around after you spoke with him.”  _ Fine. _

“It was nothing.” This whole time Arthur had not looked at Dutch, instead feigning interest in this particular scratch on his gun, trying to let his body language speak for him that he did not want this conversation. Dutch either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“Well in case I don’t see you for a while, good luck out there.” That got Arthur’s attention.

“Why wouldn’t you see me for a while?”

“Come on, Arthur, why do we gotta play these games? Don’t think I haven’t noticed you showing up only every other day.”

Arthur set the shotgun in his lap, directing his focus at Dutch standing over him. “Can’t a man have some time alone?”

“Never said you couldn’t, though I don’t think that’s what you’re doing. The boys tell me you go running off to Saint Denis after every job now.”

Arthur really was not as subtle as he once thought he was.

Dutch continued, “Hosea thinks you’re sweet on someone in the city. Can’t think of any other reason why  _ Arthur Morgan _ of all people would keep going back into that concrete jungle.”

He felt a pit in his stomach and knew this day would potentially come, when Dutch would try clawing his way into yet another facet of Arthur’s life. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not, so what?”

“What’s her name?” Arthur was never a good liar, and being put on the spot like this, he defaulted to a technicality.

“Mary…,” he mumbled.

Dutch’s expression changed to one of genuine curiosity. “Mary? Not Mary Gillis?”

Arthur shrugged and started cleaning the gun in his lap again. “It’s ‘Mary Linton’ now.”

“Oh, you truly are a glutton for punishment, my friend…,” Dutch laughed. “‘Mary Linton.’ Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. That’s right, she got married a while back, didn’t she?”

“She’s a widow now,” Arthur said solemnly. He was genuinely sad to say it, he hadn’t wished that kind of heartache on Mary even after the way that things had fallen apart between them.

“Ah, I see. Well, give her my condolences next time you see her. If she even remembers me.” Dutch finally pushed off of the side of the wagon he was leaning on and began to make for his own tent. Clearly he had formed his own narrative in his head as to what Arthur had been doing in his free time, and he wasn’t about to correct the man.

That last comment stirred up an old and painful memory, the one and sole time Mary had met Dutch. It was an awkward encounter that had strained their relationship fairly early on. He regretted introducing them and had no intentions of repeating that mistake with Albert.

Arthur said nothing as Dutch walked away, content on letting the conversation end like that. Now he had all these old memories and new possibilities floating around in his head and wished Dutch hadn’t come over at all.

* * *

It turned out that there was a last-minute addition to their plan after all, as Sean had found out about John’s scheme and demanded to have a part in it. He was inexperienced compared to the other three, but certainly not lacking in enthusiasm. They decided it would’ve taken more effort than it was worth to dissuade him from coming so they allowed him to tag along. The Irishman spent the entire ride to the ambush point talking, and not in an endearing way.

Around 11 PM they had pulled the wagon to a point not far north from the New Hanover-Lemoyne border and parked it on the tracks before loosing the horses. The gravel between the rails began to shake with the vibrations of the approaching train that had not yet rounded the corner into view. John and Charles were already getting into position in the woods, but Sean was still lingering in the open.

“Find some cover.” Arthur snapped. He climbed into the cart and on top of the tank, staring down the railroad once he was in position.

“And what about you? What are you doing?”

He pulled his bandana up to cover his face. “Making sure it stops.”

“That’s what I love about you, Arthur, everything’s do-or-die with you!”

“Hide!” Arthur did have an unspoken soft spot for Sean, but now wasn’t the time.

Shortly after, the train appeared from behind a small hill. The clouds from earlier in the day had cleared out and there was ample moonlight, but Arthur was still wondering if there would be enough visibility for the train to see him and stop in time. All he had was a shotgun in his hands and a hundred gallons of oil beneath his feet, and he just had to hope that would be enough to bring a thousand tons of steel and fire and people to a halt.

The light being cast out from the front of the train fell upon Arthur and the tank. His heart beat with adrenaline as the point of no return passed. With a terrible screeching sound that felt like it would never end, the train managed to halt not twenty feet from the cart. It blew its horn several times, roaring like a frustrated animal.

A man exited the front of the train and began walking towards Arthur. “Hey! What’s going on here?” Charles quickly ran up behind the man and knocked him out cold with a swift strike to the back of the head.

“Nothing good.”

Arthur dropped down from his position and quickly made way for the train. “Charles, watch the engine and make sure we don’t move. Sean, check the baggage car in the back.” John was already where he needed to be, at the back of the first passenger car. They nodded at each other before climbing up and entering the car simultaneously from either end of it.

Firing a round into the ceiling to get everyone’s attention, John got things started. “Alright, this is a robbery! Everyone put everything you’ve got into this bag and no one gets hurt!,” he shouted. This truly was a fancy passenger car on the inside and Arthur noted how well-dressed the people were. Looks like John’s tip had actually paid off.

_ Don’t get ahead of yourself, _ he thought.

John started at the front with his open sack taking fistfuls of cash and jewelry as Arthur followed behind, looking menacing with his shotgun. Towards the back of the train a man decided he wanted to be a hero.

“You’re not getting a cent out of me you crooks!”

“Well allow my friend here to change your mind.”

Arthur slammed the butt of his gun into the man’s skull, hard. Before the man could react, the barrel was pointed at his face from mere inches away.

“I  _ will _ take your money from your corpse. That what you want?!”

The gentleman soundly came to his senses and dropped his money clip into John’s bag. They moved on to the next car. More of the same, this time the holdout was a man seated next to his wife.

“People like you make me sick.”

“Dear, just give them the money! It’s not worth it!”

Arthur bashed the man’s nose in, immediately causing it to bleed before aiming down his sights again.

“You best be listening to your woman.” The man dug out his money from his pocket and tossed it into John’s bag, grabbing his face to nurse the bleeding.

John was at the very last row of this second passenger car, apparently having some more trouble.

“Please sir, is this really necessary?”

Arthur’s stomach dropped. He knew that voice.

“I said, what’s in the bag?!”

“It’s just some equipment, it’s worth nothing to you!”

Arthur walked over to see Albert, sitting terrified and being confronted by John over his camera bag wedged up against the window side of the seat.

“You’re really gonna make my friend here waste a bullet on you to get this bag? Just hand it over.” John stepped out of the way for him, but Arthur just stood there. Albert finally looked over at him, then down at the shotgun at his eye level. Arthur could’ve sworn he saw just the faintest hint of recognition on Albert’s face.

He stepped forward to whisper to John, “I’ll handle this one, go on to the next car.”

“Arthur?” He forced his eyes shut and hoped against hope that Albert did not just say that aloud.

John absolutely heard it however, and quickly looked between the two of them. “ _ Does this guy know you? _ ,” he whispered back. Arthur didn’t know what to say and stood there, frozen in place. John on the other hand had no problem taking action; he primed his revolver and pointed it square at Albert’s forehead. “We can’t have any loose ends.”

Arthur has no recollection of moving at all, the sequence of events may as well have been instantaneous from his point of view. One moment he saw John aiming his gun, the next Arthur had him flush against the back wall of the car, the end of his shotgun pinning John’s head in place.

“ _ I. Will handle this _ ,” Arthur growled.

John stared at him with equal parts rage and confusion. They’d known each other for almost sixteen years and Arthur had never once aimed a gun at his brother, not like this. After a few seconds John holstered his own gun and held up his free hand and the bag, yielding. Arthur backed up a step and lowered his shotgun, giving John the space to pass through the door to the third car. He did so, but not before sneaking one last glance at Albert.

The entire car was silent. All of the passengers had seen what just happened and clearly didn’t know what to make of it. Arthur needed to reassert control over the situation.

“Everybody up, NOW. Outta your seats! Move up to the front car before I start filling you with lead,” he roared. The scared aristocrats scrambled over each other trying to move forward and out of the car. After a few seconds when they were alone, Arthur looked down to see Albert holding his wallet and offering it without looking. His hands were trembling violently.

“Put your money away,” Arthur dismissed as he slung his gun over his shoulder and sat in the seat across the aisle. Albert rested his hands in his lap, but could not control the shaking. “You okay?”

Albert finally looked over at him with a look of incredulity, as if Arthur were mad for even asking the question. “No.”

“What’re you doing on this train? It’s supposed to be going to California.”

“I’m only taking it to Riggs Station, then catching a coach to Blackwater.”

“What’re you going there for?”

“I’ve never been; wanted to see it for myself.” He looked forward to the back of the seat in front of him. “Thought maybe I’d take you someday if it was nice.”

The confession felt like a punch in the stomach. Albert was just trying to do something nice, because that’s all he ever did. Instead he had to see Arthur at his absolute worst.

“I wish I would’ve known, I would’ve…”

“What, not robbed a train because you knew  _ one _ person on it?”

“Look, I’m sorry-”

“I think you should leave, Arthur.” The interruption was soft, but firm and laced with pain.

“Al-”

The sounds of gunshots rang out from one of the cars towards the back of the train. They both heard it and Arthur was on his feet in an instant, swinging his shotgun back around. Men’s voices started shouting, but he couldn’t make out who they belonged to.

“Wait here, I’ll come back!” Arthur didn’t know why he said that, he knew it was a lie. Albert didn’t say anything at all.

Entering the third car he saw a few people hiding low in their seats. This car was less ornate and looked more like a Saint Denis trolley car. Must’ve been the lower-class seats. Arthur pressed ahead and just had to hope that John had already taken their money.

He exited and a bullet whizzed past his head, slamming into the back of the car just behind him. He dropped low and hid behind a crate, cursing himself for not being more careful. This car seemed to be an exposed platform with some crates and other cargo tied down. About 10 feet ahead and to the right of him John was hunkered down behind a separate crate.

“I thought there were no guards on this train?”

“There was one in the back, I think he’s got Sean.”

A new voice about 40 feet ahead shouted, “Drop your weapons, or your friend’s dead!”

Arthur and John dared to slowly peak over their hiding places to look. Inside the doorway of the last car a man was standing behind Sean, holding a gun to his head. The younger man looked like he’d taken a bad hit, some blood trickling down from his forehead, but at least he was standing.

“What do we do?,” John asked.

“Just play along, I got this.”

Arthur stood up first, shotgun pointed up in the air and his free hand raised. John followed, mimicking the pose but left the bag of money on the floor and out of sight.

“Are there any more of you?”

“Just us,” Arthur lied.

“Toss your guns over the side!”

John looked back to follow Arthur’s lead.

“Alright, just don’t hurt him.”

“Throw your guns!”

“Okay! You watching?” He wound back his right arm slowly, making sure he had the guard’s attention. He made a deliberate arcing motion as he tossed the shotgun higher than necessary up in the air and over the left side of the platform to maximize the amount of time it would spend in the air. He made sure the guard’s eyes were on the gun and not him. He would only have one chance at this.

He’d never tried a quick draw at this distance before, but he had no choice. He held his breath and focused, imagining that time itself was slowing down. When the shotgun was at the zenith of its trajectory, the guard was looking at the gun in the air, not Arthur. He reached for his Volcanic and brought it up to eye level. Sean must’ve realized what Arthur was trying because at the same moment he jerked forward to give Arthur a better shot. The guard was too distracted to pull Sean back into position, and after Arthur squeezed the trigger the man’s head slammed backwards before he collapsed in a slump.

Sean, gripping the frame of the door, looked down at the man behind him and let out a nervous laugh as he picked up the gun.

“Christ almighty, that was close! I knew you could do it though, you’d never shoot a friend.”

“Course he wouldn’t,” John mumbled with a healthy dose of sarcasm. Now that the immediate threat was handled he was glaring at Arthur with silent fury, but Arthur was giving it right back to him. This wasn’t the time or place to hash out their problems though.

“John, check this last car, I’m gonna go get Charles then we’ll get outta here.” Arthur scaled down from the platform to ground level to get his shotgun.

“What about me?,” Sean called out.

“Try not to get caught again.”

“Oh, real funny, Arthur. A real barrel of laughs you are.”

“God, would you shut up and help me?,” John bemoaned as he walked past Sean and into the last car.

Arthur got his shotgun and began walking towards the front of the train on the outside. He didn’t want to go back the way he came; he didn’t want Albert to see him “working” like this, and he wouldn’t know what to say anyway. Charles was still at the engine and it didn’t seem like anyone else had come along yet. The engineer that he had knocked out earlier was there with him, tied up with rope but still unconscious.

“How’s it going back there? I heard some shots.”

“Sean got caught by a guard, but it’s handled.”

“Is he alright?”

“Unfortunately. What about you?”

“It’s been quiet up here, but we should leave soon, this is taking too long.”

“Agreed. They should be finished by now, let’s head back and get out of here.”

Charles stepped down and they walked down the other side this time, with the parked train on their left. Arthur willed himself not to look up when he passed under Albert’s window. When the platform car came into view, John and Sean were both crouched down behind crates, hiding from something on the other side of the train. Sean motioned for them to be quiet and keep low.

“Boys, we got company,” Sean whispered.

Charles and Arthur scaled onto the platform and took their own spots as the sound of approaching horses became louder. Arthur peeked out to see two riders approaching, lawmen from the look of it.

One of them shouted, “You men come off the train now, do you hear?” The four men on the platform exchanged looks, but didn’t say anything. The lawman continued, “We said you men come out now!”

This was technically John’s job but he wasn’t speaking up so Arthur decided to take the lead. From behind cover he replied, “There’s only two of you, you fools! And we got a whole lot less to lose. Why don’t you just run off so you don’t have to get killed?”

“There’s a few more of them turning up,” Sean noted, looking past the two riders. He was right, more riders were approaching from the front of the train on the same side.

“Me and my big mouth,” Arthur sighed. He swung his shotgun onto his back and readied his Lancaster Repeater which was better suited for these distances. He was really hoping to avoid bloodshed on this job but there didn’t seem to be another option at the moment. “Let’s deal with them.”

In unison they stood up and began firing. The two closest lawmen didn’t stand a chance, instantly taking shots in the torso and falling off of their mounts. But with the firefight beginning in earnest it was obvious they were outnumbered as more mounted lawmen approached and shots started ringing out from the adjacent tree cover. The fact that this was going down at night wasn’t helping.

While he was reloading behind cover, a stray shot took Sean’s hat clean off his head.

“Jesus, this is Horseshoe all over again!,” he complained as he scrambled forward and put it back on his head.

Charles aimed and fired his sawn-off shotgun from behind cover at a man who was running up to the platform on foot, knocking the lawman flat on his back with terrible force. He did not get back up. “There’s too many, we’re gonna have to run.”

They had left their horses on the other side of the train, just over an adjacent hill and out of sight. After landing a shot on a man hiding behind a tree, Arthur crouched and set his back against his crate as a bullet flew clean through it, missing his left leg by mere inches. Even their cover wasn’t going to last much longer against this onslaught.

“John, you still got that dynamite?”

John ducked and patted down his jacket, procuring two sticks and pulling a matchbox from a separate pocket. “This is all brought with me, the rest is still on my horse.”

“Well use ‘em and we’ll make a run for it!”

John struck a match and lit both fuses at the same time before taking a stick in each hand. “Give me some cover.”

The other three popped over the top and fired some shots blindly into the woods. To his left Arthur heard Charles groan but before he could turn to look a bullet slammed into the crate he was aiming over, sending dozens of small wooden splinters flying into his chin and neck. His bandana offered little protection. He saw the two sticks flying in the air and landing among the vegetation and the shooting stopped momentarily.

“Heads up!,” someone in the trees shouted. Arthur didn’t stick around to watch, but as he jumped off the opposite side of the platform he heard two explosions go off in quick succession behind him followed by some screaming. He held a hand to his throat and pulled it away to look at it. Even in the dark he could tell there was some blood, but he’d live.

The four of them whistled for their horses and they appeared at the top of the hill shortly after. However as they were running up the slope there was some movement to the right, at the front of the train. Two new lawmen appeared on horseback and began riding towards them.

Arthur dropped to one knee and took aim with his repeater. The closer rider on the left went down clean, Arthur’s bullet finding its target with unsettling ease; the result of a lifetime of practice. The second rider wasn’t so lucky; Arthur had aimed too low and shot the man in the neck who immediately fell off the side of his horse and grabbed at his throat while bleeding out. That was a bad way to go and didn’t sit well with Arthur, so he lined up another shot and mercy-killed the man from several feet away.

He knew he shouldn’t have done it, but he looked at the last window of the second passenger car. Albert was staring right at him, aghast.

“Morgan, mount up, let’s go!”

With Sean snapping him to his senses, he continued up the hill and mounted Ivy. Albert would absolutely recognize her, so there would be no denying what Arthur had just done, even with the bandana covering his face. What was he going to say to Albert the next time he saw him? Should he even try to see him again?

Bullets whizzed past their heads, missing wildly, but they were exposed up on this hill crest. Arthur was having trouble focusing so he just tried to follow the other three that were already racing away from the train ahead of him. As he caught up, more lawmen appeared on horseback in front of them and a chaotic exchange of gunfire occurred. It was dark and hard to tell who was hitting their marks and who wasn’t. They continued fleeing, keeping off the roads and peppering their pursuers with over-the-back shots until the returning fire eventually stopped.

They continued on for several minutes for good measure before allowing their horses to rest. They were in some heavily wooded and slightly hilly area, but none of them really had a clue which direction they had picked to get out of there.

Sean started laughing, despite the dried blood that caked his forehead. “Right fun that was! Now I see why they call you boys the old guard of the operation.”

“And you weren’t even invited. Lucky you.” Arthur looked over at Charles who was nursing his right shoulder. “You alright, Charles?”

“I’m fine. It just grazed me but stings like hell. What about you?”

Arthur finally removed his bandana and carefully ran a hand over his throat. “My neck got messed up. It probably looks worse than it feels, I’ll live.”

John sorted the money in the bag and split it four ways best he could in the dark and on horseback. It was a decent haul, but Arthur wondered if it was worth it. Once the take was divvied out it was time to split up.

“Alright, you boys know the drill, split up and don’t be followed before heading back.”

“Yeah, yeah, you don’t always have to be so serious, Morgan,” Sean muttered as he turned and took off in a random direction. 

John was still shooting daggers out of his eyes at Arthur. Charles must’ve noticed because he silently raised an eyebrow and only wordlessly went off on his own after Arthur subtly shook his head. 

“Nice job, Marston. See you tomorrow.” Arthur spun Ivy around and took off in what he thought was west. He didn’t look behind him, but he didn’t hear John’s horse begin to move for several seconds. But when he did hear it, the distance between them seemed constant. A few minutes into the ride it was obvious that John was following him from about two or three hundred feet back, trying his best to keep up through the thick vegetation.

Eventually Ivy broke out of the woods and Arthur recognized the area as the southernmost part of the Heartlands, right where it came flush with Flat Iron Lake. He took her down to the shore where there was no cover and turned around to see John was still following him. At least it was John and not someone else, but he didn’t want to have this conversation, not now. It was pointless to keep running though so he sighed and slowed Ivy before dismounting on the beach.

He didn’t know what time it was, but he was exhausted at this point. He stood in the sand, watching the waves gently lap against the shoreline, breathing in the salty air. There were no clouds blocking the thousands of stars in the sky above him, but it still felt like the calm before the storm. He wished he could have enjoyed the moment.

To his left he heard John slow down his own horse before jumping off and marching towards Arthur with purpose.

“What happened to splitting up?,” Arthur asked, still looking out into the lake.

“You and I have unfinished business is what happened.”

“Will you let me explain?”

“You shoved a gun in my face in the middle of a job, what else is there to explain?”

“Plenty, if you would take a second to listen!”

“How do I know you won’t just pull a gun on me again?” He took a wide stance and hovered his hand over his holster. “You wanna shoot me, I’m right here, Arthur.”

Arthur didn’t know how he had managed to surround himself with so many dramatic people in his life.

“I ain’t fighting you on this, come find me when you calm down, you lunatic.”

“Come on!”

“I said ‘no.’” Arthur turned and started walking towards Ivy. He knew John was livid, and he had every right to be, but he also knew he wouldn’t shoot Arthur in the back.

A tackle from behind, however, was apparently not out of the question.

He was knocked onto his stomach and got a mouthful of sand as John got on top of him and tried snaking an arm around Arthur’s neck. The splinters from earlier hurt, but now Arthur was getting mad himself. He bit down on John’s forearm, who let out a shout before punching Arthur in the side of the head. Arthur responded by throwing an elbow back, catching John in the jaw and managing to separate from him in the process. John’s spurs scratched across Arthur’s leg and he went to lunge again, but Arthur threw a fistful of sand in his eyes. If anyone was watching them, it would’ve looked like two children wrestling on a beach unsupervised.

John got to his feet but couldn’t see for the sand in his eyes. “You goddamn cheat.”

“Get a hold of yourself! The hell’s gotten into you?”

He was still wiping at his eyes, but at least John wasn’t walking forward to continue the scuffle. “I trusted you, Arthur. I’ve trusted you my whole life. And then you go and pin me against a wall like that... I saw your eyes, you were really ready to do it. Why?”

Arthur stood up slowly as to not provoke John further and dusted himself off. He shrugged as he caught his breath and said, “I was scared.”

“ _ You _ were scared? Of what?”

“Scared you were gonna shoot that man.”

John had to blink several times before was finally able to look at him directly. “You did know him, didn’t you? He certainly recognized  _ you _ . And now there’s a witness out there that can tie us back to that robbery!”

“He’s not gonna do that.” At least he hoped Albert wouldn’t.

“You don’t know that. You should’ve let me handle him.” Arthur felt a flash of rage at the word “handle.” He never wanted anyone to lay a hand on Albert, let alone “handle” him.

“He’s a friend.”

“So what? Make new friends.”

“He’s a  _ good _ friend.”

“Make new  _ good _ friends. You think we all haven’t-”

“He’s more than just a friend!”

John was silent. His anger was replaced with confusion as he tried to reason what Arthur had just shouted at him.

“What, is he like a relative or something?”

“You of all people know I got no family worth giving a damn about. Not outside the gang.”

“Then what do you mean ‘more than a friend?’”

Arthur sighed and sagged his shoulders, letting his exhaustion show. “The hell do you think I mean?” 

“Like a… like a lover?”

It was strange hearing the word finally spoken out loud. What was stranger is that there was no better word for it, at least prior to what had happened that night. Arthur put his hands on his hips and nodded silently.

John was quiet for a few moments, clearly not expecting that answer. “I didn’t know.”

“Well, how could you? I never told anyone.”

“Don’t you think that’s the problem? You’ve always put up so many goddamn walls I feel like no one really knows anything about your life.”

“That’s rich coming from you. No one knew you and Abigail were a thing until she was three months pregnant.”

“Well at least I had the good sense to never get her mixed up with one of our jobs!”

“You think I knew he was gonna be on that train? I was just as surprised as you!,” Arthur shouted back as the conversation escalated.

“Surprised enough to almost blow my head off apparently…” It was late, and a long day for both of them. That probably explained why the fight finally seemed to be leaving John. Arthur matched his tired energy and lowered his own voice.  


“I told him I would always protect him. As far as I’m concerned, I did just that.”

In the ensuing silence, Arthur scanned around, just making sure that there was no one watching them. Best he could tell they were alone and weren’t followed. John was studying him however.

“You’re really serious about this guy, huh? You’re really… together?”

He ran a hand over his face and agreed that that was a good way of putting it. Nodding, Arthur replied, “He’s been the best thing to happen to me in a long while, yeah.”

“Why’s this the first I’m hearing of him?”

“He’s a good man, decent, not like us. I wanted to keep him away from the gang.”  _ And Dutch specifically. _

“Does he know about what you do? About the rest of us?”

“He figured it out over time. Eventually I just straight out told him what kind of man I was, but he didn’t seem to care. That probably changed tonight though.”

The pieces seemed to be falling into place for John now and he looked genuinely remorseful. “Shit... In that case, I’m sorry I pulled a gun on him. I thought it was the smart thing to do at the time.”

“I know.”

“Hell, if I did know him, I’d probably still rob him and pay him back later. Remember that moonshine shack in the middle of nowhere we hit a few years back?”

Arthur chuckled, remembering the story John was bringing up. “The one Uncle was in, losing the clothes off his back in a game of poker? We pretended like we didn’t know him and robbed him anyway.”

“And the next day he had the nerve to demand a cut for not ratting us out!”

“I felt bad and gave him five bucks,” Arthur admitted. “He’s probably the only man in history to actually make money off of being robbed.”

“Probably,” John laughed.

Arthur joined in, also laughing at the memory he hadn’t thought about in a while. He wanted to set things right though so he continued with, “John, I’m sorry I did that to you tonight. It was a bad situation, I never wanna go through that again.”

“Would you have done it though? In the moment.”

He honestly didn’t know, but he didn’t want to say that either. “Nah, I just wanted you to think I would. You’re my brother, John, you know that.”

John huffed and hung his thumbs on his belt loops. “I was pretty convinced at the time, so good job.”

“Besides, you think I’d want Abigail coming after me if anything happened to you? She’d hunt me down the rest of my days.”

“I don’t think you’re wrong about that,” John mused. He looked out over the lake. Even from here one could make out the distant lights of Blackwater. “Safe to say this night didn’t go exactly as planned.”

“Could’ve gone worse,” Arthur pointed out.

“Sounds like it could’ve gone better, at least for you.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what I’m gonna do with him.”

“What’s this guy’s name anyway?”

Arthur hesitated, but if he couldn’t tell John then he really couldn’t tell anyone. Besides, he’d already told Bill, and Charles was at least tangentially aware of who Arthur was spending all his time with. “His name’s Albert.”

“And he really makes you that happy?”

“Yes. Why do you keep asking that?” There was a touch of irritation in the question, and Arthur found himself feeling defensive.

“I just wanna make sure I’m hearing you right! We’ve basically grown up together and this is the first time I’ve ever heard of you fancying men.”

“I was just as surprised as you were, but there’s just… I don’t know, something about him. Bill said maybe it was always there and I never noticed until the right one came along.”

John’s jaw dropped. “Wait, you told  _ Bill _ about this guy before you told  _ me _ ? Okay, now I’m getting angry again.” There was a playful tone to his voice that belied the message however.

“What can I say, it’s been a strange few weeks for me.”

“Sounds like it. So what are you gonna do now?”

“I don’t know. I guess try to find Al and see what he makes of what went down tonight. If he’ll even speak to me again after all that.”

“He wasn’t going to California?” Arthur shook his head.  


“Not all the way, he was getting off an earlier stop.”

“Where?”

If Arthur mentioned the name “Blackwater,” he knew John would try to stop him. After the mess they caused there with the boat job and getting Sean out of Pinkerton custody, that town would be crawling with security. Arthur didn’t care and would be going anyway. “He said he was getting off at Valentine.”

“I’m guessing you two met when we were still up that way?”

“Figure that out all on your own? I think I’m getting a little scared of this new smarter version of John Marston.”

“Shut up,” John moaned, but it was in good humor. 

“So we good?”

John looked down and kicked some sand with his feet. “I’m still a little mad, but at least I understand now. But yeah, I’ll say we’re good.”

Arthur stepped forward and wrapped his arms around John who wasn’t expecting the embrace, but returned it after a moment.

“I’m sorry. Don’t you ever put me in a situation like that ever again.”

“I’ll try not to,” John replied as they parted. “Good luck, brother.”

“Thank you.”

After he mounted his horse, John wheeled around and called out to Arthur, “Maybe I’ll meet this guy one day and, I don’t know, apologize?”

The thought of trying to introduce John to Albert after the night they all had was a surreal image. What would that even look like? Would Albert even speak to Arthur ever again? At this point, there were too many unknowns.

“Maybe. One thing at a time.”

He stared out over the water to the distant lights of Blackwater as John left. Albert wasn’t there, not yet, but if that truly was his destination, Arthur would have to risk everything to find him there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur on top of the oil tank staring down the train is one of my favorite visuals in the game, I couldn't NOT include it. Also, I don't know why I assume Flat Iron Lake would be saltwater because it's fed by two rivers, but it just feels correct that way.


	13. Please don't say it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur sneaks into Blackwater late one night to try and find Albert. It doesn't go as planned.

_ 7/18/99 _

_ [A sketch of an abandoned settlement. Multiple small crosses appear sticking out of the ground next to it on a hill. There is no caption.] _

* * *

While he wasn’t satisfied with how the sketch had come out, daylight was fading fast and continuing in the dark would just make it worse. Arthur closed his journal and tucked it into his satchel before rubbing his hands over his face. It was two days since the train job and he still could not find a way to put his thoughts into words in any way that would make sense. The train job itself had gone fine, they made good money off of it, none of the boys got hurt too badly and the passengers had all survived. However it was strange how many lawmen turned up and how quickly they found the stopped train; Arthur would’ve preferred less bloodshed. But then there was the whole matter with Albert.

In any case, he hadn’t returned to camp that day. The gang had probably been expecting him back, but they would just have to be disappointed while he handled something that was more important than whatever new mess they were getting themselves into with those two Rhodes families.

He was in an abandoned wooden building just north of the Upper Montana River. It looked like at one point it was used as a classroom or maybe a church for a native reservation, but all of the crosses driven into the ground on the hill outside told him something bad had happened here. He vaguely remembered passing this place during the gang’s escape from Blackwater into the mountains a few months back, but he couldn’t be sure if it was this place or one that looked like it. There were a lot of things from that day he couldn’t remember and others he didn’t want to.

The plan was to wait until nightfall before crossing the river and heading south into Blackwater proper. Discretion was key and he could not afford to draw too much attention to himself, so Arthur was hiding all of his guns save for his Volcanic Pistol in this building, hoping to come back for them later.

Around 10:30 at night he decided to exit the building and ride Ivy down to the river. There were no bridges nearby but the crossing itself wasn’t too deep. Arthur made sure to scan the area thoroughly from a distance before he was convinced that there were no agents watching the crossing. Once he was satisfied, he spurred Ivy through the running water, past his self-imposed point of no return and drove forward to Blackwater.

* * *

Ivy was hitched well outside of town and Arthur kept his head down, face covered with his hat. Fortunately there weren’t many people out this late and those that were were horribly drunk and hopelessly meandering their separate ways back to their homes. He hadn’t really come up with a plan for once he got inside the town, but the local saloon seemed as good a place as any to start.

When he saw the main boulevard that ran through the heart of the town, Arthur immediately began having second thoughts. There was only a pair of lawmen at the end of the lamp-lit street, busy with their own conversation. But memories from the botched boat job earlier that year came flooding back to him. It was nighttime now, but he could remember what these once blood-soaked streets had looked like in the daytime. As he studied some of the masonry on the buildings he could still see some bullet marks from that day, but one would only notice them if they knew to look for them. And that storefront over there was where Davey had gotten shot in the stomach and began to bleed out…

Arthur blinked hard and forced the memories from his mind, trying to focus on the task at hand. He steadied himself with a deep breath and pushed open the door to the saloon and entered. He was immediately met with a bounty board with his name and face on it, as well as a few others he recognized.

_ WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE FOR MULTIPLE CRIMES INCLUDING: MURDER, ROBBERY, ASSAULT, RESISTING ARREST _

_ DUTCH VAN DER LINDE - $10,000 _

_ HOSEA MATTHEWS - $8,000 _

_ ARTHUR MORGAN - $5,000 _

_ JOHN MARSTON - $5,000 _

The list went on but only the first four had pictures associated with them, ranging from spot-on in Dutch’s case to looking like a completely different man in Hosea’s. The board was a veritable who’s who of the whole gang that was there that day which made Arthur question why they even wore bandanas during jobs anymore. He pushed on before anyone noticed him looking at his own likeness on the wall.

There was a decent-sized crowd tonight, easy to get lost in but also easy to find trouble in if he wasn’t careful. It had been several months, but Arthur had been to this bar a few times with some of the boys while they were scoping out the town, before the boat job. Luckily he didn’t recognize the barkeep, but asking around for gossip should be a last resort. Arthur simply ordered a drink and paid for it immediately. With his back to the bar, he scanned the room. Mostly rowdy locals; he’d forgotten how much the people in this town liked to drink. A game of poker was just starting and a man was playing some lively piece on the piano against the left wall.

A few feet away from the piano, Albert was sitting at a small table, alone, with a hand propping up his head as he stared into his drink.

Arthur was simultaneously relieved, saddened, and nervous at the sight, but this is what he came here for. He walked forward and grabbed a spare chair from another table and brought it over to the one Albert was sitting at.

“This seat taken?,” Albert said as he sat down. Albert looked up at him with a start, almost falling out of his own chair. His expression turned sour and he stood up.

“No, I was just leaving. It’s all yours.”

“Al, wait,” Arthur called, but Albert was already briskly walking out of the building. Arthur finished his drink quickly and set the glass down on the table before following after, head momentarily spinning from sudden intake of alcohol.

Upon exiting, he looked around and saw Albert was to his right, crossing the street towards a brick corner building with a sign that read “Althewate Inn”. Arthur felt like a fool for not thinking to start his search there.

“Al, please. Just say something.”

In the middle of the street Albert stopped abruptly and spun around to face him. “What do you want, Mister Morgan?”

That “Mister Morgan” felt like a slap in the face, and may as well have been with how it stunned Arthur into silence for a moment.

“I… I wanted to see you.”

Albert raised his arms and gestured as if he were on display. “Well, now you’ve seen me. Good evening.” He turned and made way for the hotel again. If he made it inside, Arthur could not follow after without risking making a scene. Without thinking, Arthur reached out and grabbed Albert by the wrist, who immediately twisted around with a mix of anger and fear. “Let go of me.”

“Please, just… just give me five minutes.”

He hated the look Albert was giving him, it made him feel like the monster he was. It was a look he’d gotten from debtors he’d harassed over the years, from people he’d robbed, from people who knew he was about to kill them. He never thought Albert would look at him that way. Still, he released his grip and Albert assessed him before simply walking over to the brick exterior wall of the hotel. He leaned his back against it with crossed arms and leveled a very simple question at Arthur.

“Am I in danger right now?”

Arthur meandered after, getting out of the middle of the street. While he was happy that Albert wasn’t just running off, he did feel like a child that was about to be scolded by a parent. “From what?”

“From you.”

“No. I told you I would never hurt you.” That tender night in Strawberry seemed so distant now.

“You understand why I’m skeptical though, correct? I don’t know if you’ve noticed but your face is plastered on every building in this town.”

Arthur shook his head and threw up his hands, not sure how to respond. “I told you what kind of man I was, you knew.”

It was Albert’s turn to fidget uncomfortably. “You did. And even Mary had warned me about what to expect. I foolishly chose not to believe it though, not all of it anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

Thankfully Albert lowered his voice; there weren’t many people out this late, but the fewer people that could overhear, the better. “I thought you were just some petty criminal. Debt collection, horse thievery, that sort of thing. But then I watched you…” Albert stopped to blink a few times and run a hand over his face, “I watched you kill two men like it was  _ nothing _ . Those were somebody’s sons, maybe husbands or fathers. Those were two families that you destroyed with grief in just seconds.”

It was all true. It was also something that Arthur struggled with every time he had to kill someone.

“You’re right. And they weren’t the first two lives I ended.”

“How many? How many  _ have _ you ended?” Arthur was disgusted with himself when he realized he didn’t know.

“You don’t wanna know the answer to that-”

“Don’t treat me like a child, Mister Morgan, I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.” There was that verbal slap again, a not-so-subtle way to keep Arthur at an emotional distance. He thought about it, genuinely trying to determine a hard number to cite, but came up with nothing.

“I don’t know. I can’t remember them all,” Arthur whispered.

Albert looked at him with something looking like a mixture of disgust and pity. Arthur couldn’t handle it so he looked away.

“When the sheriff’s men got control of the situation and took us off the train, I could see the bodies lined up on the ground. They were covered, but… there were many. Was that all you?”

“No, you know I wasn’t alone that night.”

“Of course, how could I forget…,” Albert mumbled. 

“Look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you saw me like that, I’m sorry you were put in that situation. The only reason he shoved a gun in your face was because you knew me. But I kept you safe, and you even got to keep your money!”

“Which presented its own problems, yes,” Albert dismissed. Arthur furrowed his brows.

“How do you mean?”

“Well the sheriff was very interested to speak with me to figure out why I was the only passenger on the train that  _ wasn’t _ robbed.”

Arthur hadn’t even considered how that might’ve been a problem, but this conversation already wasn’t going as he planned. “What did you tell ‘em?”

Albert shrugged. “I told them I didn’t know. I said I thought the two of you were going to use me as a hostage to get into the last car, but you had a disagreement about it for some reason.”

“That’s pretty clever. You lied to the law to cover for me, thank you.”

“I lied because I was afraid of what you’d do to me if I didn’t.”

For the third time that night, Arthur felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.

“You really think I’d do something to you.” It came out more of a statement of disbelief than a question.

“It’s become clear to me that maybe I don’t know you as well as I thought I did.”

He shook his head and spoke slowly, so Albert would hear every word. “No, Al, that man that you thought I was? That’s still me. I’m still the Arthur that jumps out of boats to get gators to chase me for a picture. I’m still the man that put himself between you and the biggest goddamn bear I’ve ever seen. I still want to hold you late at night, I  _ still _ want you. Al, I...”

Arthur’s voice lowered and started trailing off at the end as Albert looked up with him with glassy eyes holding back tears, shaking his head and frowning. 

“Please don’t say it,” Albert whispered. “Not now, don’t make this harder.”

“But you know it.” His own voice was breaking now.

“I do. And that’s what makes this so hard, but I can’t see you anymore.”

It was as if Arthur had been hit in the head and all of his senses were dulled as he tried to recover. The sounds of the sleepy town carried on around them: a horse riding down the stone-cobbled streets, the lawmen carrying a conversation at the end of the block, the muffled sounds of the piano from the bar behind him. He heard none of it.

“Is that what you want?,” Arthur dared to ask. Albert sighed and his breath sounded unsteady, barely containing his emotions. He was no happier about this than Arthur was, it seemed.

“No, it’s not. But I need to protect myself.”

“From me.”

Albert nodded solemnly, “From you… Staring down death in the form of a wild animal is one thing, but to do it from the wrong end of a gun? I have to draw a line somewhere, you understand.”

Arthur offered a weak smile. “Looks like your sense of self-preservation finally decided to show up.” It was a meager attempt at a joke and only succeeded in making them both sadder.

Albert abruptly looked away towards the door of the hotel. “It’s late, I have to go.” There was no invitation to come up into the room with him underlying the statement.

“I know, me too. Maybe I could... write you though? Would you want that?”

Albert pushed off against the wall and paused before replying, “Maybe.” 

_ Not a “no.” _

“Goodbye, Arthur.”

Arthur’s voice hitched in his chest and he said nothing as Albert entered the adjacent building. Still, he remained there, alone on the side street anchored in place for what felt like minutes. He knew it would end like this, Albert finally realizing what Arthur was and leaving him, there was simply no other way for it to end. He was a fool for ever wanting it to go any differently. He just wished it could have lasted longer.

When he finally was able to summon his facilities back to the present moment, Arthur turned on his heel and began walking west out of town, towards the spot where he’d hitched Ivy. He felt like his head was in a fog and his legs were just carrying him forward completely on their own, but he was still able to make out the sound of someone behind the bar calling after him.

“Hey you!” Obviously drunk from the slur in his voice. Arthur did not acknowledge the man and kept straight ahead.

“Hey, my friend here’s talking to you, pal!” A second voice, also inebriated. Arthur glanced over his shoulder to see two men approaching him, bottles in hand. They looked to be farm hands from just outside of town, probably coming in to unwind.

“Do I know you?,” the first one asked.

“No, leave me alone,” Arthur bristled. He could not afford to get into a fight, not in this town.

Snapping his fingers, “You look like one of the boys on the posters.”

“Yeah, Arthur Marston!,” his friend supplied with unwavering confidence.

“Nah, that ain’t me. Have a good night, fellers.”

“Now hold up, lemme get a good look at you.” The first man was becoming agitated.

Still walking and not turning to face them Arthur tried again, “Sirs, I’m just trying to get home to the missus, she’s already gonna have my head for sneaking out for a drink this late.”

The unmistakable *clink* of a revolver hammer being primed was the next thing he heard. Arthur slowed to a halt, quickly running all of his options through his head.

“Turn around.”

Taking his time in doing so, Arthur could see the first man, the shorter one, had a Cattleman revolver aimed at him. His friend was merely brandishing his bottle and snickering, which likely meant he didn’t have his own gun. If that revolver fired or Arthur shot in response, there was no doubt that the two lawmen on the main avenue would come over. Who knows how that would escalate.

The shorter man spoke again, “Why don’t we go down to the sheriff’s, let him decide what to do with you?” Arthur raised his hands but still protested.

“I’m telling you, I’m not your guy.”

“Sal, go grab his gun.” The taller man approached with his arm extended, pointing the bottom of his bottle at Arthur.

“Don’t try nothing funny, you,” he warned.

When he was close enough, the taller man apparently named Sal leant forward to reach for Arthur’s Volcanic resting in his holster. Arthur quickly grabbed the man’s forward wrist with his left hand, sidestepped to place Sal between him and the shorter man, then delivered a swift knee to the groin. As Sal buckled forward in pain, Arthur readied his pistol and aimed it at the smaller man over Sal’s shoulder.

“Drop it,” he growled. The shorter man looked unsteady, but did not lower his aim.

“Come on, Sal! What’re you doing?”

Arthur wound back his leg and kneed Sal in the groin a second time, harder. A fresh wince left the taller man, but he could summon no words through the pain. “I said drop it!,” Arthur barked. He had to end this quickly.

Thankfully, the shorter man obliged, letting the revolver fall to the floor at his side and pathetically raised his hands. “Look, this was just a misunderstanding…”

Arthur pushed Sal to the side and took two large steps forward towards the shorter man. He was so focused on the gun being pointed in his face that he didn’t have time to react to the bottle Arthur swung and broke over his head from his off-hand.

The shorter man collapsed on the ground, Arthur re-holstered his Volcanic and picked out a shard of glass that had cut into his left hand. From behind it sounded like Sal still had some fight left in him. The taller man was on hands and knees, coughing, but was picking himself up, looking like he wasn’t done. Arthur calmly strode up and delivered a right jab to Sal’s face, knocking the man flat on his back.

“You son of a bitch. I’m gonna-“ A second fist and a broken nose was needed to knock him unconscious.

Arthur stood over the two men and inspected his hands. Both bloodied, obviously, but not all his own. Not surprising, there was always someone else’s blood on his hands, figuratively and literally. So many people at this point that apparently he couldn’t even remember them all when asked. He hated seeing his hands like this but apparently this was all they were good for, all they would ever be good for.

A man and a woman exited out the back door of the saloon, tipsy and leaning into each other with giggles and muttering sweet nothings to each other as they crossed the street back to the hotel. The woman gasped when she saw two bodies strung out in the middle of the street, but they saw no one else; Arthur was long gone.

* * *

He didn’t know what time he got back to the abandoned church, but he didn’t care. Arthur kicked one of the rotten wooden pews in half and slumped down against a wall, blood-stained hands covering his face. He wept silently so as not to attract attention from anyone who’d be riding by the settlement this late at night.

* * *

_ 7/19/99 _

_ [There are several words written then scribbled out, as if there were multiple attempts to begin a sentence. There is no legible text on the page.] _

* * *

Despite turning in for the night very late, Arthur still woke with the sun and was unable to find sleep again. He had not felt truly rested since the morning he’d woken up in Albert’s tent, the photographer’s arm wrapped around his bare chest and his beard tickling Arthur’s back. He remembered the way the new day’s sun peeked through the tent flaps there on the banks of the Lannahachee River. He would give anything to go back to that moment, to relieve the following days and do it all differently.

_ Was that really only three days ago? _

His rations made for a poor excuse for a breakfast and predictably he could not commit the events of last night to words in his journal. He opted instead to hit the road early, not pushing Ivy too hard because she was likely also exhausted. In that moment, Arthur’s only goal was to get to his bed, skulk around like John for a day or two feeling sorry for himself, and then get back to doing whatever anyone back at camp asked him to do. He was not a good man who deserved good things, but when he could help others he could forget about that fact for at least a little while.

* * *

It was late afternoon when he managed to get back to Clemson Point. The weather had held up but clouds on the horizon threatened a storm later in the evening. Bill was on guard duty at this entrance. He’d shouted something to Arthur, but he didn’t even register it until he’d trotted past the man.

Bill needed several seconds to clear his throat before trying for Arthur’s attention again. “Are you listening to me?”

He slowed Ivy and wheeled back around, “What’d you say?”

“I said I heard about the train job. Charles said your neck got all messed up.”

The truth was that there was some residual stinging, he hadn’t been able to get all of the splinters out without access to a mirror, but Arthur had been distracted with bigger things since the injury.

“It’s nothing. If I can survive a bear trying to eat me, a few pieces of wood isn’t gonna kill me.”

Bill chuckled and asked, “Did you run out and get your  _ friend _ to take a picture of this too?”

Fortunately no one else from camp was quite close enough to hear that, but he couldn’t find the humor in it, even if Bill was just ribbing him.

“Something like that,” was all he muttered as he entered the camp proper. This was his first time back since the train job, so he went over to the deposit box to put in the gang’s cut. He noticed the flaps of Dutch’s tent were closed, not that that did much to stifle the argument he was having inside of it with Molly. It seemed like the mood around camp was always tense lately and Arthur wondered if this was really “home” anymore. All the same faces were still here, sure, but it was undeniable that something had changed.

He rounded the back corner and was surprised to find Micah sitting in Dutch’s chair polishing one of his revolvers. One of the revolvers that a dozen men and a woman in Strawberry had died over, according to John. But putting that aside, no one except Dutch had ever sat in that chair, not even Hosea. It felt disrespectful, but Arthur wasn’t about to start a fight over something as simple as a chair.

“Howdy, Morgan.” Arthur had opened the lockbox and was counting out the money to put in, but was keeping Micah in his peripheral vision to his left. He could’ve sworn he saw Micah level the revolver right at him.

“I  _ know _ you’re not pointing that gun at me,” he snarled without looking.

“Me? No, I’d never shoot a brother. I’m just making sure my sights are lined up is all.”

_ Did John say something? _

“What are you doing lingering around here? Looking for something to do?”

“Waiting on Dutch.” Micah holstered his revolver and leaned forward in the chair to lower his voice. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but he’s a bit tied up at the moment.”

Almost as if on cue, a glass was smashed onto the floor inside the tent and Dutch cried, “What has gotten  _ into you? _ I swear, ever since we-” Arthur didn’t care to listen in on something that had nothing to do with him.

“And you think he’s gonna wanna listen to you after this?”

“Of course he will. I got a new tip that’ll send him over the moon.” The seated man seemed quite pleased with himself, enough to actually pique Arthur’s interest.

He closed the ledger after updating it and looked down at Micah. “Oh yeah, and what might that be?”

Micah’s response was cut off as a gunshot rang out near the north side of camp. He was out of his chair after the second shot and the two of them were running up on where the sounds were coming from. Arthur saw Lenny dropped to one knee, aiming his repeater into the woods, but couldn’t see what he was shooting at.

“Lenny! What’s going on?”

“There were three people in the woods looking at us. I think I hit one but the other two are running away!”

Arthur rushed in, his Volcanic at the ready and Micah was close behind. He could hear some commotion at the top of a nearby hill, maybe a hundred feet away, and he could just barely make out the silhouettes of two men cresting the hill and disappearing over the far side. Micah fired some shots after them, but it didn’t seem like he’d hit anything. Arthur was more focused on this supposed third person that’d be nearby. He quickly scanned the ground and noticed some blood spread on some leaves to his left. Following it around a bush, a well-dressed man was dragging himself in the underbrush, panting and apparently shot in the leg. He rolled onto his back and went to reach for a gun, but Arthur already had the man lined up in his sights.

“I wouldn’t do that, friend.”

The man was wearing a black jacket over a red vest and black dress pants. Arthur’s blood chilled when he realized the man was dressed like one of those Pinkertons that were left behind at Horseshoe Overlook. Micah appeared at Arthur’s side, also aiming at this wounded man on the ground.

In defeat, the man stopped reaching for his gun and put his hands up. “I surrender! Don’t shoot!”

“How did you find us?”

“I was just told that-” The man’s head burst into a mist of blood as a bullet entered his forehead before exploding out the back.

Arthur flinched at the violent sight. He then turned to his right and shouted, “What in the goddamn hell is wrong with you?!”

“What? I’m just skipping a few steps ahead. We were gonna do it anyway.” Micah stepped forward and dug around in the man’s vest. He procured a card and flashed it at Arthur. “See? Pinkerton.”

“No shit he was a Pinkerton, I was trying to get some information out of him!”

“What’s going on out there?,” Lenny shouted from where they’d left him.

Micah responded before Arthur could think of something to say, “We got one of them, go get Dutch.” Then he turned to Arthur and continued, “I’ll stay here, you go after the other two.”

Arthur looked down at the dead Pinkerton, back to Micah, and then up the hill. He shook his head and muttered, “You are unbelievable…”

He took his time getting to the top of the hill, careful not to expose himself to an ambush. It turned out it wasn’t necessary however, as the two men that escaped were nowhere to be seen. The only thing waiting for him at the top was a lone horse, hitched to a tree. There were plenty of fresh horse tracks on the ground; the other two Pinkertons had gotten away on their own horses. He grabbed the lead of the remaining stallion and brought it back down the hill with him.

When the camp had come back into view it was in a flurry of activity. Dutch, Micah and Lenny looked up and aimed their weapons at Arthur as he emerged with the new horse.

“Easy, fellers, it’s just me.”

Dutch holstered his pistol but was clearly in a foul mood. “Was there anyone up there?”

“No, just this horse. Think the other two got away.”

“They got away, or you  _ let _ them get away?,” Micah pondered.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Just think it’s a little funny how Pinkertons showed up right after you were missing for three days.”

“I wasn’t followed!”

“You seem awfully defensive, Arthur. You sure you didn’t lead them here? Just have a chat with your two boys up there about how to spring the ambush?”

He knew they never got along, even right from the beginning, but Arthur had no idea where these accusations were coming from. Micah had never been this brazen, least of all right in front of Dutch. “You told me to go up there!”

“Since when do you listen to  _ me? _ ”

“That’s enough!,” Dutch interjected. “ _ Somehow _ ,” leveling a suspicious eye at Arthur, “the Pinkertons found us and we’re not safe here anymore. I am  _ not  _ going to get pinned down by them again.” Lenny stayed at his post as the other two men followed Dutch back into the middle of camp, trading glares at each other behind his back. “Miss Grimshaw!”

“Already on it, Dutch,” Susan replied. “Okay people, I want these carts moving in ten minutes! Let’s go!”

Hosea met up with them at one of the main tables in the center of camp. “Where are we going? We need a plan.”

“I know, let me think.” Dutch lit a cigar to calm his nerves as they all tried thinking of where to flee.

Out of all of them Arthur had easily spent the most time outside of camp and was the most familiar with pretty much all of Lemoyne and a good part of New Hanover. “There’s some safe little valleys up by Van Horn we can hide in,” he suggested.

Micah leapt on the comment immediately, “You gonna listen to this, Dutch? For all we know he led them right to us, he could be setting us up for another trap.”

“I had nothing to do with them, you snake.”

“We don’t know that yet.”

“Alright then, what’s your bright idea?”

Micah turned to Dutch, ignoring Arthur completely, “There’s an old battlefield nearby with an abandoned church we can hide in. It’d be easy to defend and no one could sneak up on us.”

Arthur knew exactly where Micah was talking about. He had taken Albert there on a beautiful summer day about a week ago. Arthur had sketched it and Albert had spent an hour capturing it on film from every angle. When they had got caught in an afternoon downpour they rushed inside the ruined building to wait it out. They’d taken off their clothes to dry them faster and…

Arthur flushed the memory from his mind.  _ Those days are over. _

“That church is hardly a few miles away, we may as well stay here!”

“It’s better than your plan, you-”

“Would you two  _ stop  _ it!” Dutch slammed a fist on the table. “You are acting like children! Everyone just shut up and let me think, goddammit.”

Hosea stood up and looked past Arthur at Lenny who was approaching. “What is it, Lenny?”

“Dutch, I think I got a plan.”

* * *

The abandoned manor in the swamps was agreed upon as a compromise. Lenny and Arthur had cleared it out of Lemoyne Raiders several days ago, but Lenny and Charles would ride ahead to make sure no new squatters had laid claim to the place. In the meantime, the gang worked feverishly to pack everything up, racing against not only the potential return of more Pinkertons, but the monster of a thunderstorm that threatened to sweep over them from the lake. At least they’d be harder to follow through the rain.

Arthur quickly stowed away his belongings, one of the perks of having a spot next to a wagon, and apologized to Ivy for hooking her up to the front of it. They’d both been traveling a lot the past three days but she was definitely taking the brunt of it. Once he was satisfied that he was ready to go, Arthur looked to see if he could help anyone else. Instead he caught sight of Hosea approaching with his horse, Silver Dollar.

“Mind if I ride with you, Arthur?”

“If you want. Thought you’d wanna be up front with Dutch.”

“I think Mr. Bell will keep him plenty of company on the ride over.”

Arthur huffed as he took Hosea’s suitcase and threw it into the back of the wagon. “I cannot stand that man,” he grumbled.

Hosea was hooking up Silver Dollar so Ivy wouldn’t be pulling everything on her own. “He’s not my favorite either, but I’m more concerned with getting out of here at the moment.”

Arthur took a moment to take in the location one last time while he waited for everyone else to get ready. Even with the menacing clouds on the horizon that were fast approaching there was something peaceful about being there right on the lake. It was nice that the location was flat as well, not like Horseshoe Outlook where you had to worry about Jack or a drunken Reverend Swanson walking off the edge of a cliff. He had just started to come to like the place.

It took Kieran dropping a sack of cornmeal over by Pearson’s wagon and Miss Grimshaw’s scolding to bring Arthur back into the moment.

“We ain’t even been here a month yet and we’re already moving again,” Arthur complained as he climbed up into the wagon where Hosea was already waiting.

The old man bent forward and grabbed the reins as it looked like they’d be moving soon. “All because of Pinkertons again. I told you, this country’s changing every day.”

“I didn’t lead them back here.”

“I know, son. No, I think either the Grays or the Braithwaites finally caught on to what we were doing and decided to let those agents deal with us.”

“Maybe. We ain’t exactly been subtle lately.”

“Shame too, I really think we were close to something. All that hard work for nothing! Oh Fenton, what would mother say?”

Arthur shook his head as Hosea nudged him with an elbow. “If all this means I won’t have to do that shtick again maybe it’s not all bad.”

“I think you’re just worried about how convincing your ‘dumb idiot’ act really was. At least you’ve always got that to fall back on.”

A short while later the gang was on the move. They took off in pairs of wagons; in the daylight the whole camp moving at once as a huge caravan would be sure to attract attention. Hosea worked the reins as Arthur gave him directions to the manor the locals had referred to as Shady Belle. A separate wagon carrying Pearson, Sadie and Kieran followed behind them.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive the horses?”

“I’ve got it; I’m not  _ that _ old and hapless you know. Not yet at least.”

“Suit yourself,” Arthur conceded as he pulled his repeater and laid it in his lap. Didn’t want to come off as too aggressive to anyone they’d come across on the road, but neither did he didn’t want to be caught off guard by Pinkertons or whoever else.

In a lower voice, Hosea continued, “Besides, if I’m controlling our speed, I can control how long I get to talk to you.”

The comment caught Arthur off guard. “That sounds kinda like a threat.”

“Maybe it is. Maybe I’ll keep circling this cart around these miserable backroads until you give me an answer I wanna hear.”

“Answer to what?”

“An answer to how you’re getting out of the gang.”

The following wagon was far enough behind them that they probably wouldn’t have heard what Hosea had said even if he was speaking at full volume, but there was still a feeling of taboo around the subject. In any case, Arthur didn’t want to talk about it at all.

“Not this again…”

“Yes this again. You need to start thinking smart, Arthur. You said it yourself back there; we haven’t even been at that spot for a month and we’re already moving again. This is going to be our fourth location in a year. When was the last time we’ve moved this much?”

The answer was “never,” and they both knew it.

“We’ve been a little unlucky, sure, but once we get the Pinkertons off us-”

“Why would they ever stop? They already outnumber us and the bounties over our heads aren’t going away anytime soon. This is no way to live, scurrying from place to place like rats every time they manage to lift the rock we’re hiding under.”

“So how does this end?”

“Either with everyone breaking off when they can or with all of us getting killed.”

It wasn’t a pleasant thought, but Arthur didn’t find himself disagreeing with the older man. “They wouldn’t kill  _ all _ of us.”

“Just most? Is that something you’re comfortable with? Tell me Arthur, where do you see yourself one year from today?”

He didn’t even attempt to entertain the thought. “I have no idea, that’s a ridiculous question.”

“For most people it’s not. Try again.”

But he just shook his head, not even knowing how to tackle the question, “I got no clue, Hosea. We’ve never lived our lives knowing what the next day would bring, let alone the next year.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that though! You’re still young, you can still have a life. And it sounds like you’ve got someone worth running away to.”

He knew Hosea was talking about Mary and the fiction he’d allowed Dutch to weave for himself, but he felt a pang of remorse as he thought about Albert.

“I’m not so sure about that at the moment.”

“What, you’re going through a rough patch with that Linton girl? Isn’t that the story of your lives?”

“It’s different now.”

“And it’ll be even more different if you end up dead before you get to make things right with her.”

They were heading south, but would need to take the right path at the upcoming fork in the road. “Take this right up here,” Arthur directed while pointing.

Hosea made no sign of acknowledgement.

“Did you hear me?”

“I did, but I was just thinking that maybe we got a little lost in this storm, and it took us a little longer to make it to the new camp.” The horses and the wagon steered ever so gently to the left.

“What are you doing?”

“Tell me you’ll get out, Arthur.”

“Hosea, come on.” The horses veered farther left.

“Tell me you’ll get out and live a life worth living before Dutch ends up killing us all. I spent years raising you and John as the sons I never had, and I don’t want to have to bury you.”

The thought of Hosea outliving either him or John was too painful to bear, but between the last night at Horseshoe Overlook, raising hell across Rhodes, even John’s train job, the likelihood of that happening felt like it was going up every day recently.

“Alright, fine! I’ll… I’ll wait until we’re settled in and safe at this new place and then I’ll tell Dutch I want out.”

Hosea redirected the horses to the right path and they took it further into the wooded swamps.

“That’s good enough for now. And remember, you’re not the only one I’ve been giving this talk to, so don’t feel like you’re abandoning us. In fact I feel like you’re gonna have to be the first domino to fall; once you’re out, others will follow, and be safer for it.”

The manor slowly came into sight as the wind whipped all the trees around them and the first raindrops began to land on them. Hardly a good omen for a new home.

“I hope you’re right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Storytelling is all about peaks and valleys and our boys are currently in a low spot for sure, but hey, it's chapter 13, of course something bad was gonna happen. And I know overall it was a bummer, but the Blackwater conversation was one of my favorite pieces of dialogue I've written for this entire work.
> 
> Also in retrospect I may have over-hyped the danger of Arthur going to Blackwater, but I didn't want to spend too much time on another gunfight and a potential jail break subplot. Besides, you go back there in like Chapter 2 in-game to get Sean without getting too much trouble, so I don't think it's entirely unbelievable how I handled it.
> 
> Also for my RDO players, anyone catch the Jessica LeClerk reference I threw in there?


	14. Immediate and Terrible Violence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur settles into the new digs at Shady Belle, but things are happening behind the scenes without his knowledge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *looks at chapter title* Well this isn't gonna be a fun one. No Albert this chapter, but honestly that's probably for the best.
> 
> Also, some of you might have noticed that now we're at Shady Belle that means I've skipped some things. I decided not to go down the whole Jack-getting-kidnapped/Angelo Bronte thing because that's a whole other can of worms that we don't have time to get into. Also skipped Blessed are the Peacekeepers because this fic is called "Summer of '99", which wouldn't make sense if Arthur spent a third of it strung out and recovering from broken ribs. I like to imagine that this is a version of the main story where certain events progress too quickly for others to happen.

_ 7/21/99 _

_ Feels like everything that can be going wrong is doing just that. I have managed to lose the trust of both Albert and Dutch in just a few days, and we had to move again because Pinkertons discovered us at Clemson Point. Hosea insists that I figure out a way to leave the gang soon before we all die. I don’t think it would be hard for me to sneak away, but I don’t even kno- _

* * *

Arthur abruptly closed his journal as he heard someone knock on his door. “Who is it?”

“It’s John.” Arthur stood up from his cot and walked over to the door but didn’t open it.

“What do you want?”

“Just wanted to talk to you.” After a few moments of silence, he continued in a softer tone, “Dutch wanted me to talk to you.”

Arthur opened the door to let John in, and then closed it before going back to sit on his bed. The room was small, but at least it had four walls and a roof over his head. It seemed it was more Miss Grimshaw’s decision than Dutch’s that he was put in this room on the second floor, but he wasn’t going to complain. This house must’ve been spectacular in its prime forty or fifty years ago, but time had not been kind to it judging by its current state.

This being his first time in this room, John scanned the surroundings before turning his eyes to the floor, thumbs hooked through his belt loops. “You settling in alright?”

“What does he want, John?” Arthur wasn’t in the mood to play games.

“He... thinks you’re distant. That you’re gonna leave the gang soon.”

Just last night he promised Hosea he would start getting ready to do that, but he didn’t feel it was right to spring that on Dutch, not until things had calmed down first.

“I’m not going nowhere.”

“Have you thought about it though?”

Arthur looked up at John without raising his head. “Have you talked to Hosea?” John nodded.

“I think things are gonna get worse before they get better.”

Arthur sighed and replied, “Me too.”

Outside, Sean was giving Uncle hell about something, but the walls muffled the exact words. It was a scene Arthur had seen played out dozens of times over the years, but this camp didn’t feel like home anymore. Something had changed.

“Have you talked to Abigail about it?”

“Yeah. Jack’s been having nightmares since Horseshoe. She’d leave today if I asked her.”

“Poor kid… I didn’t know.” A gang running from the law was certainly no place to raise a child. Sure, he was lucky enough to have more “aunts” and “uncles” than he knew what to do with, but Jack was just a kid who had no business being around so many criminals; he’d need a  _ home _ if Abigail didn’t want him to grow up to be just like his father.

“But I’m not leaving either. Dutch thinks if we pull just one more-”

“You should leave, John.” He wasn’t expecting to be interrupted, but he let Arthur continue, “You got your own family now, they need you. Alive. You can’t keep living this life no more.”

“Oh, but you can?”

“Maybe if you left, I would too.”

Javier had gotten roped up into Uncle and Sean’s argument outside. It sounded like everyone was at each other’s throats out there.

After a pause, John asked, “What about everyone else?”

“If the two oldest guns beside Dutch and Hosea left, don’t you think others would follow?”

“Maybe. If they were allowed to. I could see Dutch starting to go crazy and taking it out on whoever was too slow to leave.”

“That’s happening already.” Last night when everyone had arrived at the new house, Dutch had given a speech about how everyone was safe because of his leadership. He apparently was giving another speech after supper tonight. Arthur wondered if this would become a new nightly routine.

“Let me… let me talk to Abigail again.”

“Sure.”

John walked over to the door, but stopped before opening it. “There was one other thing.”

“Hm?”

“Dutch wants you on guard duty later. 5-7, after Bill.”

“What am I, a rookie?,” Arthur snapped.

“I don’t know, he asked me to tell you.”

He honestly was having trouble remembering the last time he’d been on guard duty. Easily a few years. Not that it was hard, but apparently seniority doesn’t count for what it used to anymore.

“I’ll be there,” Arthur grumbled. Something suddenly came to the front of his mind however, and he spoke again before John left the room, “John.”

He stopped. “Yeah?”

“Do you… do you know how many men you’ve ever killed?” The question caught his brother flat-footed.

“That’s a ridiculous question.”

“I know it is. But what’s the answer?”

Miss Grimshaw had entered the fray outside as she tried in vain to break up the argument and set everyone back to work.

After pausing to genuinely think about it, John could only reply defensively defensively, “I have no idea. Why are you asking that?”

“No reason. Just curious.”

John lingered to regard Arthur for a moment before he closed the door behind him. Arthur opened up his journal again and found himself at a loss for words yet again and was beginning to wonder why he even kept it.

* * *

Several years back the gang, when it was much smaller, lived in the desert outside of Armadillo. The New Austin heat was unbearable, and the full gaze of the sun was so unforgiving it could drop a grown man dead in just a few hours. Arthur could deal with that, but this Lemoyne bayou weather was a whole other beast. It felt like walking and breathing through soup, and you were never truly dry, never able to get a lungful of fresh air, even at night. And the bugs were relentless.

It reminded him of the first time he’d really been in the swamps proper, that day he rowed Albert around in that skiff they found. It wasn’t fully summer at that point, not like now, so the heat was unfamiliar but tolerable. Now it was familiar and intolerable. Even the memory itself was no longer comfortable to dwell on for too long.

Footsteps he didn’t recognize approached him from behind. He turned to see Sadie walking up to his post, gun slung over her shoulder. Apparently she’d snuck off from the speech Dutch was giving from the second-floor balcony at the front of the house.

After taking a quick glance at this pocket watch Arthur remarked, “You still got a few minutes before you take over for me.”

“So I’m here a little early, what are you gonna do about it?,” she challenged. If he didn’t know her as well as he did he would have mistaken her tone for irritation, but he knew this was just her way of being playful.

“Nothing at all, I just feel bad you’re missing out on this wonderful speech,” he joked while gesturing back to the house. She rolled her eyes.

“It’s more of the same from yesterday, ‘I can protect you,’ ‘stay loyal,’ yadda yadda.”

“And what do  _ you  _ make of all that?” She shrugged indifferently.

“It’s bullshit, but if it makes the others feel better, I say let ‘em eat it up.”

“That doesn’t sound very ‘faithful’ of you,” Arthur quipped.

“I’m plenty loyal where it counts. This is just Dutch lashing out because Molly ran away.”

He cast a curious glance at Sadie to his right. “That so?” She nodded.

“Hmm mm. Swanson too, but I think he just got left behind and no one thought to look for him. Molly absolutely took her chance though. Can’t say I blame her.”

“First I’m hearing of it.”

“Of course it is, you’ve been cooped up in that house all day. What’s happened to you, Arthur? When I first joined you boys you were always social. You made the rounds and talked to everybody. Lately it’s like you’re always looking for an excuse to run out.”

“It’s just… hmm,” he grunted, opting not to complete the thought. Sadie was having none of it however.

“Oh, come on. If I can get  _ Marston _ to talk to me don’t think I can’t get you to open up too.”

“What’d John say to you?”

“That him, Abigail and Jack would be leaving soon.” Seemed like things were starting to move quickly.

“Sounds like you know everything that goes on around here.”

“Everything except you. And I’m not letting you off that easy; why’re you keeping to yourself all the time?”

Arthur glanced at his pocket watch again.  _ 6:58 _ He sighed, but knew he wasn’t getting out of this.

“I have… met someone outside the camp that I’ve come to care for. Deeply. But I disappointed them recently.”

“So why aren’t you trying to fix it?”

“I don’t know that I can. And I don’t wanna just leave the rest of you behind.” She scoffed at that.

“You really think this whole place would fall apart without you?”

He scratched at his jawline. This was a surprisingly uncomfortable interrogation. “No, but… Well, maybe…”

“If it did, would that really be the worst thing?”

Arthur swiveled his head back to the house before looking at Sadie. “What are you saying?,” he asked in a low tone.

“I’m saying we’re not all as helpless as I think  _ you _ think we are. Look at Molly; she carried herself around like a princess and she still managed to get herself out. I don’t know where she is tonight, but I’m betting it ain’t with a bunch of wanted outlaws.” She leant her back on the stone wall opposite Arthur’s and crossed her arms. “I’m just saying, sounds like there’s a lot of weight on your shoulders that you put there yourself.”

It reminded him of all the times Albert had called him selfless, and how Arthur had always deflected.

“Yeah, maybe you’re onto something.”

“Of course I am. This whole thing ain’t gonna last forever. You know it, I know it. If you think you’ve got someone waiting for you on the other side of this, I say make things right and hold onto them.”

“Wise words, Mrs Adler.”

“So what’s her name anyway? Tell me about her.”

Arthur took out his watch one last time and sarcastically commented, “Oh my, would you look at the time! Shift’s over, better go grab some stew while I still can.”

“Coward. You can’t run from me, I know where you sleep,” Sadie countered with a smile.

* * *

The next few days felt like living in a parallel world, like living in two different camps at the same time. Arthur threw himself completely into all the manual labor and chores around camp that he could find in hopes of finding quiet moments to speak with people privately. In group settings everything was normal, even if everyone was a little more on edge than normal, but the knowing glances and subtle gestures he shared with people he’d spoken to were becoming more common.

He’d only been able to pull aside the people who were normally at camp anyway though: Tilly, Abigail, Pearson and a few others were the only ones he’d been able to confide in. Most of the gang’s guns like Charles and Javier and Sean were out most days and didn’t get back until late. Even Dutch himself was absent more frequently, but he somehow always made time to make it back to give his nightly speech about how they were only one more score away from putting this all behind them once and for all.

Something was clearly brewing, and Arthur wasn’t involved.

* * *

About a week after they’d first arrived, Arthur wasn’t sure of the exact date because he’d stopped writing, he woke up later than normal. He’d spent a good portion of the previous day fixing an axle on Karen’s wagon that was damaged during their escape. That was how Arthur had been spending all of his days here; helping around and having side conversations when he could. He hadn’t left camp once and poor Ivy was probably beginning to go stir-crazy from inactivity.

He made his way down to the first floor and lingered in the ruined living room with the broken piano. Tilly was sitting in a chair near what remained of a fireplace, reading a book while Jack was keeping himself entertained with some new toy on the floor at her feet.

“Good morning, Arthur.”

“Morning, Tilly. Sleep well?”

“I got on fine. What about you?; you’re usually the first one up.”

“Think I pushed myself too hard with that wagon yesterday.” Directing his attention to the boy, “Whatchu you doing down there, Jack?”

“Uncle Hosea made me a new toy,” he replied, holding up what looked like a small wooden horse. “He said he’d make me another if I was good while mom went away.”

“That so?” Arthur aimed a curious look at Tilly.

She appeared worried, but Jack had his back to her and didn’t notice. Tilly leaned forward, “She’s only gonna be gone for a little bit, and we’re gonna have so much fun today, aren’t we, Jack?”

Behind him Arthur could hear footsteps coming down the stairs. He turned to see Abigail in one of her fancier dresses, checking a pistol before shoving it into a purse. She offered a strained smile to Arthur as she walked past him and into the living room.

“There’s my boy!,” she beamed at Jack. She knelt down to embrace him. “Now you be good for Aunt Tilly, okay? I’ll be back later today.”

Arthur was supremely confused. After Abigail finished her goodbye and thanked Tilly he stepped forward with her towards the front door.

“Abigail, where are you going? Why do you have a  _ gun? _ ,” he whispered as they exited onto the front porch.

“Arthur, don’t tease me, I’m nervous enough as it is.”

“I ain’t teasing you, I don’t know what’s going on.” She regarded him quizzically.

“We’re robbing the bank today.”

“What  _ bank?! _ ”

“The big one, in Saint Denis.” As she stepped forward off the porch Arthur looked ahead. All the gang’s men that he hadn’t seen the past few days were mounted up by the horses. It looked like they were getting ready for war. “Didn’t Dutch tell you?”

Anger flashed within Arthur. He accompanied Abigail towards the group and was certain he was wearing his dark mood on his sleeve.

“Dutch don’t really talk to me no more...”

“Well he kept talking about it during his speeches.”

“He keeps putting me on guard duty up front; I haven’t heard any of them. That doesn’t answer my question though, why do you have a gun? How’d  _ you  _ get roped into this?”

“Hosea and I are gonna run a distraction. We’re gonna use the rest of the dynamite from John’s train job to blow up a moonshine cart in a different part of the city. That’s when the boys’ll move in on the bank.”

“And the gun?” Mentally, she stumbled while trying to think of an explanation.

“I just want some protection, is all. You know, Arthur, in case…”

Arthur stopped and held both of Abigail’s hands, making sure he had her attention. “Don’t you go shooting any officers, Miss Roberts,” he whispered. He knew they hadn’t spoken much recently, but during the year John left the gang after Jack was born, Arthur and Abigail had developed a close friendship. He was hoping to tap into that bond to get through to her in that moment.

Her hands were steady, but the tremble in her voice and her pained smile betrayed her confidence. “I’ll be fine. It’s the rest of the boys you should worry about. Now come on.”

They continued towards the group and Abigail broke off to speak with John alone. Dutch was speaking with Micah and Bill, wearing a red bandana around his neck. He only did that when he came along on a job, and lately he only came along on the big ones.

“Dutch, what the hell is all this?!”

The older man looked back to Arthur, quickly muttered something to Micah and Bill, then began approaching Arthur. He was apparently in his own sour mood judging by the way he responded, “About time you woke up.”

“Well I would’ve been out here if someone had told me what was going on.” He made no attempt to hide the irritation in his voice. “Why’d you keep this from me?”

“Didn’t think it would interest you that much. You seemed more interested in loafing about here all day.”

“Loafing about?! I’ve been helping people here!”

“Yes, I’ve seen you hauling sacks of flour and splitting logs, thank you for that. But that doesn’t bring any money in, does it?”

Dutch’s voice was dripping with sarcasm and venom that had never before been directed at Arthur, who could only shake his head. “I can’t win with you. You get mad when I leave, you get mad when I stay, what am I supposed to do? Let me help you, Dutch.”

The older man placed a firm hand on his bad shoulder and said, “You can help, and I’m glad you asked because you have the most important job of all. I need you to stay here.”

“What? No, I can come-“

“No. I need you here. I’m taking damn near every gun we have, and I can’t leave this place undefended.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur caught Hosea approaching from his left, smiling, but with a dour look in his eyes.

“Sorry you found out like this, Arthur.”

“Any other secrets I should know about?,” he grumbled.

Hosea turned to Dutch, “I’ve never seen someone so upset to be left out from being shot at by cops.” The attempt to inject some light-hearted tone into the conversation failed.

“Hosea, get him to stay here, will you? And get ready, we’re leaving soon.” Dutch briskly turned his back and walked off without another word.

“I swear I don’t recognize that man no more,” Arthur muttered when he was out of earshot.

“You know I’d prefer to have you ride with us, but that was an argument I couldn’t win.”

Arthur shook his head, confused. “What’s he got against me? I did nothing wrong.”

Hosea shrugged. “He’s under a lot of pressure. And with Molly gone I guess you’re his new favorite punching bag to lash out against.”

_ Lucky me. _

“Are you really robbing a bank in the middle of the day though? How long have you been working on this?”

Hosea looked like he already knew what the reaction to his answer was going to be. “About a week.”

“A  _ week? _ We scoped out Blackwater for  _ two months _ before we even decided to make a move.”

“I know, trust me, _I_ _know_. But Dutch doesn’t think we have two months and I’m inclined to agree with him on that.”

“This is crazy…”

“It is, but it’s going to work,” Hosea stated firmly, placing a hand on Arthur’s good shoulder. “We know how the patrols move through the city. Abigail and I will run a distraction, and doing it during the daytime means we don’t have to worry about sneaking into the place at night.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“Well I am a professional criminal after all,” he bragged with a smirk. “Still, if we manage to pull this off, you know what this means.”

“What?”

“That we’ll finally be set. This’ll be enough money for all of us to cover our tracks; we won’t have to live this life anymore.”

“I’ve heard that before…” Dutch mounted his horse and the others started to follow suit. They’d be leaving soon.

“John and Abigail are leaving after tonight,” Hosea murmured. “Promise me you’ll leave when they do.”

Arthur managed to lock eyes with John who was out of earshot, just for a moment. Dutch was launching into a pep talk that everyone else was listening in on, but John looked apprehensive and just gave a silent nod to Arthur before turning his attention back to Dutch.

“Promise me, Arthur. Lord knows you’ve been dragging your feet long enough on this. I’ve been asking you since Horseshoe.”

He sighed and relented. “Okay. But I don’t know where you expect me to go exactly.”

“The man who’s been missing the past two months suddenly has nowhere to be? Color me skeptical,” Hosea quipped as he clapped Arthur on his good shoulder. The older man turned and climbed up into a wagon, sitting next to Abigail. “Gentleman, let’s go rob ourselves a bank!”

A cheer rang out among the men and all of their horses began to kick off, leaving a trail of dust behind them as they made their way into the city. When he could no longer hear the thundering of the hooves, Arthur looked to his right and saw Sadie standing guard. He hadn’t even noticed her out here among all the commotion that just left. She gave him a solemn look to match his own.

“Now you know how I feel,” she stated.

* * *

_ 7/27/99 _

_ Dutch has truly gone and lost his mind. He just took half the gang out to rob the biggest bank in the biggest city we’ve ever seen in the middle of broad daylight. Hosea seemed confident it would work out, but they only spent a  _ _ week _ _ planning it, and I wasn’t allowed to go. I can’t help but- _

* * *

Arthur was sitting in the front porch with Tilly while Jack played in the dirt in front of them. He looked up from his journal when he heard a horse approaching the front of the hideout. Barely forty five minutes had passed since everyone had left. Either things had gone impossibly smooth or horribly wrong.

It was Abigail. She was alone and dismounted off of a horse he didn’t recognize. She sounded hysterical as Sadie tried to calm her down. Arthur quickly stood up and jogged over.

“-have a chance to do anything! I just, I just…”

“Abigail! What’s wrong?”

“They got Hosea!” Arthur’s blood chilled.

“Who did, the cops?”

“Not just cops, there were Pinkertons too.” Sadie shared a concerned look with him. “We blew up the cart and they showed up  _ immediately _ , like they were expecting us. I just pretended to be a passerby, but I got split up and they arrested Hosea. I couldn’t-“

“Shhh shh shh, come here,” Arthur shushed as he pulled Abigail in. “You did fine. You did what you were supposed to and you got out of there.”

“But I shouldn’t have left him.”

“No. If you stayed behind, they would’ve got you too. Where’s everyone else?”

“At the bank I guess? We split up before we went into the city.”

“Go be with Jack, I’m gonna go get Hosea.” He let go of Abigail and made for Ivy. Her ears swiveled and she pawed at the ground in excitement as he approached. “Yeah, I missed you too, girl,” he cooed.

When he mounted, he looked to his right and saw Sadie also getting ready to ride.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Making sure you don’t get yourself killed.”

He spurred Ivy and started moving; there was no time to argue. “I can handle this.” Sadie was soon behind him though.

“You’re gonna take on the whole police department  _ and _ Pinkertons by yourself? Don’t be ridiculous.”

Sadie Adler was just as stubborn and strong-willed as any of the men in the gang and Arthur knew better than to waste energy and time fighting her on this. “Fine, but let’s hurry up.

A few minutes into the ride the first smokestacks of the city came into view, but they still had a way to go as they were only on the outskirts of Caliga Hall. They were riding as fast as they dared to push, and Arthur caught sight of a man riding just as fast toward them from several hundred feet ahead. He began to slow down as he recognized the face.

“Micah?”

The other man also slowed down, looking terrified. “Morgan? Thought you’re supposed to be at the house.”

“And you’re supposed to be robbing a bank!”

Micah shook his head. “It’s done, they’re all dead.”

“The hell do you mean? You saw it?”

“No, but I wasn’t gonna stick around to watch. Dutch had me watching from the streets while they went inside. Pinkertons showed up right away; I barely got out myself.”

“Well we’re going back for Hosea and then we’ll help the others come on!”

“No way, friend, I ain’t going back there.” Before Arthur could retort he kicked off and continued down the road back to the house at full speed.

“Coward,” Sadie spat. “Forget him, let’s keep going.”

* * *

They hitched their horses in an alleyway and tried going the rest only the way on foot. They were only two blocks away from the bank.

“You know where you’re going?”

“Sure. I’ve been spending a lot of time in this city,” Arthur explained.

“Never took you for a city-lover.”

“I’m not.” He peered around a corner and took a quick look around. There were hardly any people on the street, which was unusual for this part of the city.

“Then why’re you here all the time?”

“It’s… I’ll tell you later.”

At the moment, he was thankful that he was familiar with the city because he knew exactly where he was and how to get to the bank. It was on an exposed avenue in what was normally one of the busiest parts of town. When they exited an alleyway, Arthur guided Sadie to cling to the buildings and out of the street to minimize their exposure. They were the only pedestrians on the street, which was concerning. When the bank came into view there were dozens of officers and Pinkertons aiming their weapons at the bank.

“Come out, it's over! We can wait you all day, but it’s over!” One of the Pinkertons was shouting towards the bank from behind the cover of a police wagon. Thankfully it didn’t seem as if anyone had noticed Arthur and Sadie yet. Dutch’s distinctive voice rang out from the bank, but they were too far away to make out the words.

“Let’s get a little closer,” Arthur hushed. They crept low, sticking to the opposite side of the street from the bank when a new horse-drawn carriage approached from behind them.

“Arthur, get down!,” Sadie hissed as they crouched behind a crate. The carriage passed them and slowed at the bank. A police officer went to the side and forcefully removed Hosea from it.

“We gotta get up there,” Arthur urged, but he could not will his legs to move. Sadie was unsure.

“And do what?”

“Well look who I have here,” the lead Pinkerton announced loud enough for everyone to hear. He shoved Hosea out of cover and into the middle of the street in front of the bank. “Mr Matthews, will you convince Dutch and the rest of them to come out?”

He was favoring his left side as if he’d been beaten as he limped away from the Pinkerton that was commanding him. He was out of breath and hurt, but dared to shoot a withering glare back at the agent before facing the bank. Again, Dutch said something to Hosea, but Arthur was still too far away to hear it clearly. Hosea merely shook his head at whatever he heard.

“Dutch…,” Hosea began.

There was a pregnant pause that he let linger for several moments in silence. He ran a hand over his forehead to wipe away the sweat and some blood from a cut. He stared at his hand for a moment before sighing.

“... I’m sorry.”

The older man abruptly dropped the act and wheeled around, charging the Pinkerton, unarmed and with the vigor of a man ten years younger. But this final performance was not enough to deceive. The man shot him at point-blank range, and with a pained yelp Hosea collapsed to the ground clutching his chest and writhing a few seconds before he was still.

There was a pause. Then an immediate and terrible violence.

All of the windows at the front of the bank exploded outwards as bullets poured through them in both directions. The building’s façade chipped and fractured as bullets that missed their mark slammed into it. Arthur could hear Dutch screaming “Kill those goddamn bastards!” but it sounded like it was a thousand miles away. He was paralyzed, too focused on watching Hosea’s body on the ground, hoping against hope that he would move and get up.

It took Sadie’s repeater firing off right next to him to bring him back into the moment. He slung his own repeater into position and began shooting into the flanks of the Pinkertons who hadn’t noticed them up to this point. Arthur was pure fury and was felling men left and right, never missing a shot. There was a precision to his violence that would have sickened him if he weren’t so enraged and distraught in the moment.

More bells sounded off signaling additional cops approaching. Sadie grabbed Arthur by the shirt and dragged him backwards as he sent a bullet through an officer's helmet.

“We can’t leave ‘em!”

“We’re not, we just need to get off the street. There’s a fire escape in that alley, come on!”

They retraced their steps and Sadie climbed up the ladder first. It led to a balcony that wrapped around to the front of the building opposite the bank. Not much in the way of cover, but it was better than staying exposed on the ground.

When they were on top they were able to provide additional fire from above. Sadie was relentless as she shot down at the new arrivals who were beginning to realize they were being attacked from two angles. From this vantage point they were also able to see a side wall of the bank explode outwards into a separate alley across the street. Seemed the boys were working on their own escape plan.

Arthur crouched low to reload his repeater, his back to the wooden railing of the balcony. To his left Sadie was standing and firing, but beyond her he saw an officer emerge from a door onto their balcony, looking at the two of them.

“Watch out!” Arthur shouted as he stood and grabbed his Volcanic to hip fire the officer. He dropped the man, but not before he was able to get a shot of his own off. Sadie screamed next to him.

“Ah! Goddamn it!”

“You okay?”

She removed her hand from her abdomen, revealing a bloody stripe from the bullet that had grazed her in profile.

“Who shoots at a lady?”

“Just stay down.”

After a dozen more shots the noise below seemed to lessen momentarily as the second wave was dealt with. Arthur dared to peek his head over the side of the railing, only to be met with a bullet that almost took his head clean off.

“Come on, let me try that again, you worthless bastard!,” Dutch cried from below.

“Dutch, it’s me!”

A pause. Then, “Arthur? What the  _ hell _ are you doing up there?”

“Trying to save you!” He slowly emerged from cover again to look at Dutch, who was leaning through what remained of a window.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” Unbelievable. He couldn’t even pretend to be thankful.

“Abigail came back to the house and told us it was going wrong.” More whistles were sounding off and coming closer. “Now come on, let’s go!”

John was at the other side of the window Dutch was at. When he made to climb through it, Dutch stopped him with a stiff arm. “We’re not going your way. We’re doing this  _ my _ way. Boys! Let’s get up onto the roofs!”

John shot a pained look up at Arthur and lingered in the window for a moment before he disappeared back inside the building. Shortly after he could see Sean running out of the hole they’d blown in the wall and climbing up another fire escape.

“Arthur, let’s go,” Sadie pleaded from where she was slumped against the railing.

He looked down into the windows to see Bill and Charles also give him sympathetic looks before following the rest of the group.

“Don’t get yourselves killed, please.” He looked down at Hosea lying in a pool of his own blood one last time before turning his attention back to Sadie. “Can you walk?”

“Think so.” With some help she got to her feet and they scaled down the fire escape before the next wave of officers could show up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I hope that "Major Character Death" tag makes sense now.
> 
> Arthur & Abigail have one of my favorite friendships in the game that I wish you saw more of in the game. Also wish I had more time to develop it in this work, but I gotta keep focus or else this will just blow up to like a hundred chapters.
> 
> Our favorite photographer will be making an appearance in the next chapter again.


	15. Please say it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur leaves the gang. It's not a clean break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *looks at chapter title* Please say what, I wonder... 🤔
> 
> This picks up right after the last chapter, still the same day in-fiction.

Fresh wound notwithstanding, Sadie managed to hold it together and they got to their horses easily enough. They both could hear gunshots ringing out from the rooftops but it was out of their hands now. They’d given him another option, but Dutch had insisted on escaping  _ his _ way. Arthur just hoped no one else got hurt because of it.

They had raced their way out of the city before the police could enforce a lockdown, but they had only made it halfway back to Shady Belle before Sadie called out.

“Arthur, I think I need to stop.” Her steed was already slowing to a trot and she was holding onto her stomach as she got ready to dismount.

Arthur wheeled Ivy back around and joined Sadie who had sat down with her back to a tree. They were back in the swamps at least which meant fewer people on the road.

“Is it bad?”

She lifted her hand to expose the injury. A bullet had grazed her abdomen, deeply, but it didn’t seem as if it was still lodged in her body.

“At least my guts ain’t spillin’ out.”

“You are made of some tough stuff, Mrs. Adler. Let me see what I’ve got.” He went over to dig around in Ivy’s saddlebags. After his mishap with the bear Charles had given him some medicinal herbs that as far as he knew were still good. He also found his old shirt, the one he’d swapped out the day he’d invited Albert to the fishing hole near Clemson Point. He remembered how the sun’s rays filtered down to them as they swirled their feet around in the water before-

He forced the memory away.

Turning his full attention to Sadie he tried administering this remedy best he could before bandaging her up with the spare shirt.

“Maybe when we get back to camp Miss Grimshaw can try stitching you up.”

“I ain’t going back.” Arthur searched her eyes and found that she was serious. “I am  _ not _ going back to that house.”

“Why not?”

“You saw what just happened, Dutch has lost his mind! We cleared out a path for them and he still wanted to do it  _ his _ way. I know you heard those gunshots; they ran into more trouble on the rooftops. Trouble they didn’t need to. I’m not following that man anymore.”

Arthur shifted uncomfortably in his kneeling position at her side. “We…” He couldn’t think of a satisfactory retort and let out a frustrated sigh.

“I know you two got history, but he’s not fit to lead anymore. And now with Hosea…”

He shook his head, “I can’t even think about that right now.”

“Arthur, I am so sorry.” Even now in her wounded state, Sadie was trying to comfort  _ him _ .

He stood up and returned to Ivy to put away the leftover herbs he hadn’t used, head hung the whole time. He lingered at the horse’s side for a moment before turning back to Sadie. “So what are you gonna do?”

“There’s a doctor in Rhodes, figured I’d try my luck with him to get this looked at. You should come with me.” Arthur shook his head again.

“I can’t. I have to go back and speak with Dutch.”

“About what?”

“The last thing I promised Hosea was that I’d leave the gang. It don’t feel right just running though. I’m gonna tell Dutch I want out, I owe him that much.”

“Well I doubt he’s made it back yet. You wanna go back there and just stare at Micah the rest of the day while you wait?”

It was hardly an appealing idea when she framed it that way.

Sadie took extra care trying to stand up and surprisingly didn’t wave off Arthur’s help for once. “Be a gentleman and at least ride me to a doctor. After that you can do what you want.” She was a strong woman, but she was also hurt and Arthur couldn’t bear the thought of losing two friends on the same day.

“Alright, but we’ll ride slow, don’t go pushing yourself too hard.”

* * *

Rhodes was its usual quiet, sleepy self when they arrived in the afternoon; a far cry from the chaotic scene that played out in the neighboring city that same day. The two of them had cooked up a story about being attacked by Lemoyne Raiders out on the road and how Sadie had been shot before they could escape. The doctor seemed skeptical, but a few extra dollars were enough to stop further questions.

Arthur lingered outside while Sadie got worked on. He debated just staying with her and not going back at all. It would’ve been the easier thing to do to run away, but it still didn’t sit well with him. Dutch was as much of a father figure to him as Hosea was in a different way, and it was impossible to imagine what his life would have looked like without Dutch’s influence. While he wasn’t expecting it to be an easy conversation, he still felt like he owed at least a warning and last goodbye to Dutch.

The plan he came up with was to wait until nightfall before leaving Rhodes and returning to the house, hoping that everyone had made it back by then. Afterwards he’d come back to Rhodes to rendez-vous with Sadie. After that he’d let her call the shots; he didn’t have anyone or anywhere else to go to anymore.

* * *

There were a few horses grazing at the front of the house, but not all of them. Judging by what he could see, John, Charles, Lenny, and Sean weren’t back yet. And Hosea’s horse was also missing, but who knew where Silver Dollar was. Bill was on guard duty, looking exhausted. He just shared a solemn look with Arthur but said nothing.

As he approached the house, the somber attitude was crushing. It felt like half the gang was missing and no one was talking. Javier was at the campfire off to the right and nodded to Arthur, but didn’t seem in the mood to chat either.

Arthur entered the main living room and found no one there. He couldn’t believe it was only this morning he watched Abigail kiss Jack goodbye in this very room. He followed the voices he heard back into what used to be the kitchen to find Dutch leaning over a lantern-lit table and Micah standing opposite him. They both looked up when Arthur appeared.

“I was beginning to wonder-“

“Micah,  _ get out _ ,” Dutch snapped. The sharpness of the interruption surprised both Micah and Arthur. He looked back at Dutch, forward to Arthur, then silently walked out of the room and out the front door without another word.

Arthur and Dutch stood there in silence for several moments, not looking at each other. On the table Arthur could see a sort of rail map was splayed across it, covered with notes and scribbles. Finally, Dutch spoke first.

“1878. That’s when I first met Hosea. It sounds like a date in a history book at this point.”

“Was that the time you both tried robbing each other?”

A small smile spread across Dutch’s face but there was still genuine sadness in his eyes. “Yes. We were sharing a campfire on the side of the road somewhere out west. He was trying to sell me some bogus miracle tonic. Only after he went to give a demonstration did he notice I’d already picked his pockets.” They shared a chuckle and he continued, “I miss him already.”

“That was some bad business today.” Dutch shook his head in defeat.

“I have no idea what happened. It was a good plan. But they knew we were coming, there was barely a thousand dollars in that vault.”

“What?! We went through all that and it wasn’t even a good haul?”

“ _ We? _ ,” Dutch sniped at Arthur, demeanor changing in an instant. “I don’t remember seeing you inside that bank.”

“No, I was just outside saving your sorry ass.”

“That’s right. I asked you to do  _ one _ thing today, and you couldn't even do that.”

“You’d be dead if I did! If I hadn’t shown up we would’ve lost more than Hosea.”

Dutch lowered his gaze momentarily. “We did lose more people.” Arthur tried to prepare himself for even more bad news.

Softly, “Who?”

“On the rooftops. We got cut off by some Pinkertons. Lenny took a shotgun to the chest. A minute later Sean missed a jump and fell four stories. He didn’t get up.”

Two new waves of grief washed over Arthur. He couldn’t allow himself to dwell on it however. “What about John and Charles? Are they alright?”

“I don’t know. We all got split up on the roofs and got back here separately. Javier only just got back an hour ago but he didn’t see them.”

“Well let’s go look for them!”

“What am I supposed to do, Arthur?! We’re running on a skeleton crew and that city is crawling with men looking for us. The plan was to come back here, and that’s what they should do!”

“Yeah, your plans are really working out lately. Lenny and Sean are dead because of your plan!”

“Do. Not. Put their deaths on  _ me _ ,” Dutch snarled.

“You didn’t have to go up on the roof!”

“But we did. Because it was my decision and  _ I _ make the decisions!” They were both full-on shouting at each other at this point. Even Bill all the way up front could probably hear the commotion inside the house through it’s rotten walls and broken windows.

“Then make better decisions! Make the decision to go out and find our boys instead of just sitting here looking at maps!”

“I am planning the next job! Cornwall has another train coming down from Annesburg in four days and we need a plan if we’re gonna hit it! This is your problem, Arthur; you never  _ think ahead _ , you only  _ react! _ ”

Arthur was stunned into silence, as if Dutch had physically struck him. Hosea’s body was barely cold and not even in the ground yet and he only just found out about Lenny and Sean. Yet Dutch was already barreling towards the next disaster that he would set into motion. Arthur no longer recognized the man standing before him.

“I don’t want no part of this.”

“Good. I wasn’t inviting you anyway.”

“No. Any of this. I’m done, Dutch.”

The older man flashed a glare at him that a lesser man would’ve crumpled under. “I’m not in the mood for your stupid little jokes.”

“It’s no joke. Hosea wanted me to leave months ago. I should’ve listened to him.”

Dutch began to grasp what Arthur was saying. He very slowly but deliberately placed a hand on his revolver at his hip, making sure Arthur was watching him.

“Do you think I can just let you…  _ leave _ ?,” he questioned with a low, careful tone. There was a wild look in his eyes tonight, so Arthur knew he had to be extremely careful with his next words.

“You really wanna lose me and Hosea on the same day?”

“Do not invoke his name.”

“Look at yourself, Dutch! What would he say if he were here right now?”

The older man scowled and they stared each other down, Arthur hoping that this was one more gamble that would pay off. He really did not want to attempt a quick draw against the man. But as the standoff stretched on he was seriously debating if it would’ve been the safer move to act first.

After what felt like a silent eternity, Dutch relented. He took his hand off his holster and instead pointed it at Arthur. “For his sake I will give you  _ one _ chance to leave. Do you understand me?”

“I do.”

“Do not. Make me. Come after you.”

“I won’t.” For a moment, Dutch seemed to be genuinely reconsidering the ‘deal’, but ultimately he just waved his hand dismissively.

“Then we’re done here. Get out.”

While he went into it not expecting a happy send off, the scene was still surreal to Arthur. A man that had spent the better part of twenty years raising him was suddenly so cold and callous in his dismissal. Not wanting to push his luck, Arthur simply turned away and exited the house.

Things were still quiet outside and it didn’t look like anyone else had shown up. Micah was leaning on a post on the front porch and regarded Arthur as he walked out.

“Hey Morgan, you got a minute?”

“No.” He continued towards the front to get to Ivy but Micah followed after.

“Remember back in Strawberry when I was in that cell? Whatever happened with that guy you were gonna rob? The one in the hotel?”

Arthur’s curiosity was piqued, but he didn’t want to show it. “I robbed him and then left. Why’re you bringing that up?”

“Was just thinking about it is all. Oh, hey, I got something for you.” Arthur looked back and felt his entire body freeze. Micah was holding out Arthur’s journal to take. “Might wanna be more careful with this; found it on the front porch. If you leave it lying around, just anyone can read it.”

Obviously he’d read it, he’d practically been at the house all day and there was no other reason why Micah would have that sinister grin on his face. Knowing that, the preceding comment could not be interpreted as anything other than a threat towards Albert. Arthur made to take the book, and was forced to pull it out of Micah’s grip.

“Where you heading off to now? Going to see  _ Mary? _ ”

The comment made Arthur see red and he stepped forward intending to grab Micah and finally give him a piece of his mind. Instead, Micah ducked low and made to reach for Arthur’s Volcanic pistol. On reflex, he reached down for it first and aimed it squarely at Micah who immediately backed up with his hands raised.

“Whoah, Arthur, what’s gotten into you?!,” Micah shouted.

“Herr Morgan? What are you doing?”

He glanced to his left to see Strauss watching from the gazebo.

“Arthur?”

To his right Javier was getting up from the fire, tentatively resting a hand on his own holster.

Micah bolted to the left. The sudden movement startled Arthur, and he fired on instinct. He missed Micah, but destroyed a lantern that was resting on the front porch.

“He’s trying to kill me! Watch out!,” Micah cried as he ducked for cover. Arthur’s survival instincts kicked in and he ran away from the house to find his own cover. Javier started firing his own shots just as Arthur ducked and slammed his back against a crate by the small wooden bridge that led up to the house. 

This was all insane and he didn’t want to shoot Javier, but he’d already lost control of the situation. Dutch soon emerged from the house and when he roared “Get him!,” Arthur knew this was well and truly over. He peeked a look to see a small fire was beginning to engulf the front porch. If he could cause a big enough fire, maybe he could buy himself some time. He dodged a stray shot from Javier before popping out and shooting a second lantern on Pearson’s wagon, starting a new fire.

He ran forward, keeping low and trading shots over his back with Micah who was slowly creeping forward while trying to maintain his own cover. Arthur came to the small stone wall at the front of the camp and crouched behind it. He needed to reload his pistol, but in the middle of doing so he looked up to see Bill leveling a repeater at him from a mere 10 feet away. Arthur froze. There was no way he could ready a second gun before Bill could fire.

Instead, Bill lowered his aim, scowled at him and whispered through gritted teeth, “Get going!” Arthur didn’t need to be told twice.

He finished reloading while keeping low. He heard four shots slam into the ground around his feet in quick succession. Bill wasn’t a bad shot and at this range he absolutely could have planted a bullet at the base of Arthur’s skull if he wanted to. He was missing on purpose. The firing soon stopped as a coughing fit overcame Bill; whether it was real or an act, Arthur didn’t know, but he was thankful either way.

He mounted Ivy and fired some rounds into the ground to spook and scatter the few horses that were at the front. Hopefully it would buy him some time. He allowed himself one last look at the house to see the facade of the first floor and Pearson’s wagon were beginning to be engulfed in flames. He spurred Ivy ahead and raced for Rhodes as fast as he dared to push her.

* * *

Sadie seemed to be in better spirits once she’d been bandaged up, but she still had an edge in her attitude; apparently the doctor hadn’t used any anesthetics before applying her stitches. She still paid the man and met Arthur outside a little after 10:30 PM

“Bastard told me to take it easy for a few days but after sticking me like a pincushion for the past two hours I don’t know how good of a doctor he could really be.” When she saw her attempt at a joke didn’t land with Arthur she asked, “How’d it go back at the house?”

“About as poorly as it could.” They were walking back to where Sadie had hitched her horse by the post office as Arthur led Ivy at his side. “Lenny and Sean died. Maybe John and Charles too, no one knows where they are.”

“Oh Jesus, no… We saw them in the bank though, did something happen on the roofs?” Arthur nodded and she looked disgusted. “What a stupid man taking ‘em up there. Unnecessary.”

“Pretty sure Dutch’ll never speak to me again. By the time I left camp damn near everyone that  _ was _ there was shooting at me.”

“Do you think he’ll come after you?”

_ Do not make me come after you,  _ were some of his literal last words to Arthur. That went out the window barely five minutes afterwards.

“Probably. They don’t know where I went though, and I didn’t tell them you were here.”

Sadie was pensive as they approached her horse and she ran a hand over the animal. “Well I appreciate that, but what about your woman? In Saint Denis, they know about her, don’t they?”

Arthur had been using Mary as a guise to cover for spending so much time with Albert, but the truth was that they were both in the city and they were both important to him. And after Micah’s veiled threat, Sadie’s suggestion was a very real possibility.

“They do… I’m gonna head back into the city, I gotta warn her.”

“Well wait for me.” They both mounted their respective horses at the same time.

“You  _ wanna _ come? You just got out of a doctor’s office and I might be running into another shootout with Micah and Dutch.”

“I can still ride and shoot a gun. And hell, I’m so mad at those two I got half a mind to shoot ‘em myself.” Arthur allowed himself just a second or two to marvel at her tenacity.

_ I don’t deserve my friends. _

“Let’s hope it don’t come to that.”

* * *

The pair of them were forced to sneak into the city from the northeast by the cemetery because the main bridges were locked down by police blockades. They hitched their horses in the slums and stored most of their weapons on them so as to not stand out on the city streets even more than they already did. They went the rest of the way on foot.

Upon entering the hotel gallery with its baroque trimming and high ceilings Sadie let out a low whistle.

“She’s staying  _ here?  _ Your woman must come from money.”

“She’s not my woman…,” Arthur grumbled over his shoulder.

Before Sadie could question him he approached the main lobby counter and got the clerk’s attention. The man sized them both up from behind the safety of his counter and announced through his posh accent, “I’m afraid we have no vacancies this evening.” It was clearly a lie.

“Not looking for a room, I just need to speak with a guest who’s staying here.”

“Are they expecting you?”

“Ah, no, it’s a surprise. We’re uh, relatives from the country who heard she was in town.” He looked back at Sadie for support. It took her a moment too long for her to catch on to his ruse, and the friendly smile she gave to the clerk was almost comically disingenuous.

_ God, I wish Hosea were here. _

The clerk sighed and asked for the name. When Arthur gave it, the man consulted a book then turned to a phone on the wall to begin dialing Mary’s room.

“ _ Fancy, _ ” Sadie mocked. Arthur waved his hand behind his back to shush her. At least she was having fun.

“I’m sorry sir, what was your name?”

“Arthur Morgan.”

The clerk turned back to the phone piece. “He says his name is Arthur Morgan… Oh you do?... Excellent, I will inform him.” He hung up the piece and said, “She will be down shortly.”

“Thank you,” Arthur replied through a forced smile. The sooner this was over the sooner he’d be able to feel at ease. 

He and Sadie walked away from the counter towards the main stairs that fed into the lobby they were in. He caught sight of himself in a large mirror on the wall. Between all the Rhodes dust, the scuff marks on his legs, the dried sweat and blood on his arms from treating Sadie, and his just overall disheveled appearance, he looked terrible. At his side, Sadie wasn’t much better and hadn’t even been able to change out of her shirt.

“We look like shit,” she murmured. Arthur tried to chuckle but couldn’t.

“We look like how this day felt.” He could hear footsteps coming down the stairs, but couldn’t see who they belonged to. He wanted to address Mary privately however. “Would you mind keeping this guy behind us busy?,” he whispered to Sadie.

“How?”

“I don’t know, just get him talking.”

She rolled her eyes, put on her own fake smile and approached the counter again. “Say, I’m just a simple country gal, I’ve never seen a phone like that. Mind showing me how it works?”

Mary appeared soon after. Clearly there was no good reason for him to be showing up unannounced this late, and his appearance no doubt confirmed that.

“Arthur, are you alright?”

He took off his hat and held it in his hands to speak to her quietly. “No, Mary.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry to bother you but I think you need to leave the city. Tonight.” She studied him.

“Is this a joke?”

“No. There are some bad men coming after me. They know you’re in the city and they know you’re important to me. I don’t want you getting caught up in something because of me.”

“Who’s coming after you?”

“It’s Dutch. I tried leaving the gang tonight and it didn’t go well.” A faint glimmer of hope seemed to spark in her eyes.

“You left the gang?”

“I did, but I put you in danger. You have to get out of here, Mary. You don’t gotta come with me, but you have to leave.”

She nodded as the full picture of the situation was becoming more clear to her. “I’ll come with you. I have just a few things I need to grab.”

“Please hurry.” She bounded up the stairs and Arthur went to the doorway to inspect the streets. Maybe they wouldn’t come for Mary tonight, the city was still too hot, but he couldn’t chance it. And if he made it into the city, maybe they could as well.

A few minutes later Mary returned with a single piece of luggage, no doubt leaving more than half of her wardrobe behind in doing so. She’d also changed into a simpler dress that wouldn’t attract as much attention outside the city. Sadie was grateful to peel herself away from her forced conversation with the clerk and the three of them exited onto the street.

“Mary, this is Sadie Adler, she’s a friend of mine. Sadie, Mary Linton.”

“Nice to meet you Miss Linton.” They shook hands, but Mary looked concerned.

“And you as well. Are you hurt?” Sadie looked down at the red stripe across her shirt.

“You should see the other guy.”

“Does this have anything to do with the bank robbery today? We could hear the fighting all the way over here in the hotel.”

“I wasn’t in the bank, but that’s what finally pushed me to leave,” Arthur responded.

They found their horses a little later and Arthur held the luggage in his lap while Sadie mounted and offered a hand to Mary.

“You know how to ride a horse, Miss Linton?”

“Yes, but it’s been a while; I’m not particularly fond of the smell.”

“Aw, come on, Hera here’s no worse than Arthur.” He could hear Mary stifle a laugh as she climbed up into the other horse. Clearly humor was Sadie’s preferred coping mechanism.

“Where are we going?,” Mary asked.

“I figured we’d head north and play it by ear.” He spurred Ivy, not wanting to waste any more time and the girls followed after.

They circled around the edge of the cemetery’s walls and ended up in the part where the city gave way to farms and dirt roads. Looking down the road to his left Arthur could see the Hôtel la Licorne. He felt violated that Micah had read his journal, his most intimate thoughts and moments, but there was no doubt that Albert was in just as much danger as Mary was. Even though they weren’t on speaking terms he had to warn him. He abruptly slowed Ivy down and dismounted. “Hang on a minute.”

“Arthur, what the hell are you doing?,” Sadie cursed.

“I have to warn Al, I’ll be right back.” He looked both ways up and down the road and was about to break into a jog when Mary stopped him.

“Albert’s not in the city.” He wheeled his head back to her, unsure if he heard her correctly.

“What?”

“He’s not here.”

Arthur started to walk back towards them. “Did he go back to New York?”

“No, but… I don’t know if he’d want me to tell you…” He approached Mary and held her hand as he looked up at her.

“Mary, these same men are gonna be coming after him as well. Please, Mary. Please tell me where he is.” He found it ironic that after all these years he was finally begging Mary to do something instead of the other way around.

She looked down at him from the horse and searched his face, confused by the urgency in his voice. Then, it was like a switch of recognition turned on in her head. “You care about him, don’t you? You’re more than just friends.” Sadie turned her head away to offer a modicum of privacy.

“He is… He is very important to me,” was all he could manage to get out. “Please, Mary…”

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “I had lunch with him three days ago. He mentioned he was going west to a place called Painted Sky, something about eagles.” He couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, of course Albert would be throwing himself at nature again. At least he wasn't in the city tonight, which was relieving.

“Thank you, Mary,” he whispered with as much gratitude he could muster.

Sadie decided to re-insert herself into the conversation. “Arthur, give me the luggage.”

“Why?”

“I’ll get Miss Linton here someplace safe. You go on and get your man, I’ll meet you in Valentine in two days.” It was as good a plan as any.

He pulled the luggage off of Ivy and handed it to Sadie who held it in front of her.

“Thank you. The both of you.”

Mary held his hand one more time. “Be safe, Arthur.”

“You too, Mary. I’m real sorry about all this.”

“Remember, two days. And I wanna meet this guy!,” was all Sadie said as she kicked off, heading north following the train tracks out of the city. Arthur looked back at the hotel and the city one last time before climbing on top of Ivy and sprinting west into the night.

* * *

_ 7/28/99 _

_ No longer am I a son of Dutch. For twenty years I gave that man everything I had, and in the end it still was not enough for him. _

_ Hosea, Lenny and Sean are now dead because of Dutch’s poor decisions. Hosea had warned me that this would happen and I did not listen. I am sorry, H. _

_ Micah has read this journal when I foolishly left it behind. He knows about Albert and has threatened him. I have protected Mary as well as I can, now I must save Albert. If he lets me. _

_ [The following three pages each contain a portrait of Hosea, Lenny and Sean drawn from memory. Each is captioned, “R.I.P.”] _

* * *

The day had exhausted Arthur thoroughly and he did not make it far out of the city. He was forced to set up an impromptu camp in a wooded ditch in Scarlet Meadows. Though his mind was racing with thoughts and he wanted to mourn, his body succumbed to sleep soon enough.

With daybreak, he was still fatigued from the previous day, but managed to tear himself from the ground and took off to the west. It wasn’t until he was near Flatneck Station that he allowed himself a second rest and his first proper meal of the day: spoiled rations he had left on Ivy’s saddle god knows how long ago. Even in this miserable state he managed to commit some words to his journal and sketch a tribute to his fallen friends. The sting of their loss was still too fresh and the act saddened him, but he was determined to do it before he forgot their faces.

It was late afternoon by the time he was able to muster himself up to stop dwelling on his losses and instead focus on the task at hand. Mary had mentioned that Albert planned to go to Painted Sky, and Arthur knew it well. It was the home of that unfortunate Polish debtor Mr. Wróbel that he had accosted and effectively robbed two months back. It felt like a lifetime ago.

* * *

If eagles were his bounty, Albert would likely be staking out the clifftops, and knowing him he’d probably be set up right on the edge of one. Arthur set out looking for the photographer by riding Ivy along where the cliffs that dropped off towards the Dakota River began, but from a safe distance. 

He saw Penny first, grazing under some trees, and knew her owner would be nearby. Arthur slowed and dismounted next to her, and was surprised when she gave him an affectionate nudge with her head.

“Hey girl, it’s been a while,” he cooed as he pet her.

Beyond the horse he could see Albert, perched on a precipice about thirty feet away, aiming his camera at a separate cliff face and of course oblivious to Arthur. He was afraid to startle the man as he usually did, so he tried speaking at a normal volume to get his attention.

“Al.” No luck. Louder, “Albert!”

The man still nearly slipped off the edge in shock and Arthur winced. Albert regained his balance however, and shot a glare at Arthur before turning back to his equipment. “I’m busy, Mister Morgan.”

“I see that. Any luck so far?” He tried approaching, but this caused Albert to dart his eyes back to him.

“Why are you here?,” he snapped.

“I gotta warn you about something. You’re in danger. Because of me.”

This was just about the poorest possible phrasing of words that only served to heighten Albert’s distrust and Arthur regretted them almost immediately. “Are you threatening me?” Albert stepped away from the tripod and faced Arthur, the back of his heels barely two feet away from the cliff’s edge. No longer in profile, Arthur could now see the pistol in Albert’s holster with blackened steel and silver trimming. It looked identical to his old gun he’d left behind when the bear attacked him.

“No! I just-,” then noticing the gun, “Where’d you get  _ that? _ ,” pointing.

Albert glanced down then immediately back up. “I found it…”

“That so?... You any good with it?”

He tilted his head in consideration. “I’ve… been practicing.”

“I can show you some tips.” Arthur took a step forward and Albert’s whole body stiffened in fear and he grabbed the gun, but didn’t remove it from the holster. Arthur immediately stopped moving as well, not wanting to provoke the man into doing anything rash.

“What do you want, Arthur?” Albert was probably trying to strike an intimidating tone, but it came off as more of a frightened one. Arthur paused before answering, choosing to be careful with his words this time.

“There are some dangerous men coming after me. They know I care about you, so they might come after you to get to me. But I’m not gonna let that happen.”

“I appreciate the warning, but I’m perfectly capable of defending myself.”

“Oh, what, you think you’re a big bad gunslinger now that you got a gun?”

“Don’t you mock me,” he spat. Albert was evidently too tense to pick up on Arthur’s attempt at a joke. “And don’t make me prove it, either.”

“You gonna shoot me, Al?”

“...I will defend myself,” was the non-committal answer he got. Obviously Albert was just worked up and wasn’t going to shoot, but Arthur still opted to go the diplomatic route. Slowly, he pulled his knife out of its sheath and dropped it on the ground next to him. Next, his newer Volcanic pistol was thrown to the floor. Finally he removed and threw down his sawed-off shotgun from his second holster and held his hands up. Albert watched all of this, but still seemed nervous.

“I’m not gonna fight you. I’m tired of fighting friends.” He took one step forward.

“Stop! Arthur, if you take one more step towards me, I  _ will _ shoot you!” There was an unmistakable tinge of hysteria in Albert’s voice and eyes. It was directed at Arthur, the source for it, and that sickened him. And that was what a bad man like Arthur deserved.

But Arthur didn’t want to be bad anymore. Least of all around Albert.

He let the exhaustion, defeat, and sadness show in his body language and his voice. “I lost my family yesterday, Al. Some of them died. Some of them are missing. And the rest want me dead. I got nothing left ‘cept you. And if you’re telling me I don’t even have you in my corner?...... Well then you better make this shot count.” He called Albert’s bluff and took a step forward.

There were only a handful of moments like this that had ever happened in Arthur’s life. Moments of pure adrenaline and luck, where he knew either he or the other guy would be dead in the next instant. Moments where time itself seemed to slow down and he was aware of every minute movement, like when he freed Sean from the guard on the train.

Albert pulled the gun out of its holster; Arthur’s gun and the very holster he had given him. He bent his elbow and prepared to fire from the hip. Had Arthur still been armed himself, he was confident he could’ve been quicker on the draw and dropped the photographer. But he didn’t even allow himself the opportunity to do so. Because he promised he would never hurt Albert. There was nothing he could do.

The gun fired and a sudden force knocked Arthur back two steps, jerking him violently, but somehow he was still standing. A loud ringing ran through his head. The two men stared at each other over the distance between them, both wild-eyed and in shock. But he felt no pain, not yet. Arthur clenched, then unclenched his fists and dared to look down.

There was no blood.

Instead, he pat himself down and inspected his body. He found nothing out of the ordinary. Looking over his left shoulder he saw a bullet lodged into the barrel of his shotgun slung over his back, not two inches away from his head. He looked forward to Albert and saw the recognition in the other man’s eyes. They held each other’s gaze for several silent moments, not sure what to do next.

Arthur put his right foot forward.

Albert pulled back on the hammer of the pistol to ready another shot.

Arthur put his left foot forward.

Albert raised the gun to eye level to line up the shot.

Arthur put his right foot forward.

Albert squeezed an eye shut and looked down the sights.

Left foot forward.

Albert placed a second hand on the pistol, to ready himself against the recoil.

Right foot forward.

Albert did not fire.

Left foot forward.

Albert’s aim became unsteady. His hands trembled.

Right foot forward.

He began to lower the gun.

Left foot forward.

The gun was pointed squarely at the ground.

Right foot forward.

Albert’s shoulders sagged. He looked down at the ground. His eyes were distant.

Left foot forward.

His face contorted in sadness. He placed his free hand over his eyes.

Right foot forward.

Albert re-holstered the gun.

A few short steps later and Arthur embraced Albert at the cliff’s edge, letting the photographer rest his head on his chest.

Albert’s breath rattled and he sounded like he was on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry, I… I don’t quite recognize myself at the moment.”

“I recognize you just fine. You’re just a little ball of nerves, afraid of your own shadow,” Arthur spoke into the top of Albert’s hat. “‘Cept now you have a gun,” he added with a chuckle that threatened to spill over into his own tears. This was the first time in almost two weeks he’d been able to hold Albert and he’d forgotten how good it felt. How  _ right _ it felt.

“That’s hardly a fair characterization of me, even on a bad day.”

“You having a bad day?”

Albert snaked a hand up and clutched a handful of Arthur’s shirt. “They’ve all been bad days without you.” Arthur tightened his embrace around the man in his arms and held him for several moments.

“You don’t have to spend days without me anymore,” he whispered.

Albert finally raised his face to look at Arthur. “Aren’t you mad at me?” Arthur gently shook his head.

“I never was. I was mad at myself for not being a good enough man for you.”

Albert raised a hand and held the side of Arthur’s face. “But you are. I just… I was afraid.”

“Of me.”

“No, of losing you! Losing you to some violent end. This way you live your life… Arthur, it has to stop,” he pleaded.

The image of Hosea’s lifeless body on the street from yesterday replayed in Arthur’s mind. He willed it away and held Albert’s hands in his own.

“I want to. But that life is all I know, it’s all I’m good at.”

“No, I don’t believe that. I don’t believe that the man who’s saved my sorry skin more times than I can count is only capable of violence.”

“Oh so you lost count too?” Finally he got Albert to crack a smile.

“That right there, that’s the Arthur I know. The wiseass cowboy who secretly cares.”

“I’ll try to bring him out more often for you.” 

Finally Albert openly laughed at the reference, tears in his eyes notwithstanding. It began as a tense reunion, but it was slipping into more comfortable and familiar territory. Arthur decided to push his luck and pull Albert in for another hug. Thankfully, he accepted and in that moment Arthur never wanted to let go.

Looking over Albert’s shoulder however drained the blood from his face as he realized how high up they were. “Do we gotta do this right here though?”

Confused, Albert looked behind him then back to Arthur who was still holding him. He cocked an eyebrow, “Are you afraid of heights?”

“No, just… well maybe a little.” A mischievous smile grew across Albert’s face and Arthur didn’t like it one bit.

“You really have no faith in me do you? You think I’m such a dimwit I’d just slip off the edge of a cliff?” He took a step backward out of Arthur’s arms and mimicked losing his footing.

“Please don’t do that.”

“Arthur, I assure you this area is perfectly safe.” He kicked some rocks beneath his feet to show how sturdy it was. Suddenly, the very ground he was standing on crumbled and gave way. “I wouldn't have set up- Oh, OH!” In a flash, he slipped over the ledge and out of sight.

“No! Al!” Arthur made to grab for him, but was too slow. Instead he was left holding his hands out in empty air, frozen in place in disbelief. In just an instant, he felt like he had lost everything.

“Arthur!”

He blinked then dropped prone to look over the side. About ten feet down, Albert was clinging to an old dried up tree root for his life. He was too far down for Arthur to be able to reach.

“ _ Shit! _ Just, uh, hang on!”

As Albert muttered insults at himself Arthur picked himself up and whistled for Ivy, meeting her half way. He searched the saddlebags for his lasso and once he found it he ran back to the ledge and threw it over the side.

“See if you can hook yourself on that somehow!”

Albert was too frightened to let go of the root with his hands and instead opted to slide a foot through the loop. As Arthur pulled up the slack, the loop tightened around Albert’s groin and upper thigh. It would have to do.

“Arthur, if I don’t make it-“

“No, don’t you give up on me!” He backed up to a more comfortable position and began pulling the rope towards him. “You gotta climb, Al! Help me out!”

As Arthur dragged the rope towards himself fist over fist he grew nervous watching how the sharp rocks on the precipice were beginning to fray the old rope. 

_ Should’ve replaced this damn rope months ago. _

He had to hope to pull Albert up before either the rope or his muscles gave out. His shoulder where the bear had sunk its teeth in screamed in protest, but he ignored it and fought through the pain.

Finally, after several grueling seconds he saw a hand clasp the top of the ledge and his heart leapt. He dared to walk closer, never letting the rope go slack, and grabbed Albert’s second hand. With a final heave he pulled him up and both men collapsed on the ground flat on their backs. Panting and out of breath. But safe.

The late afternoon sun cast its rays across the cirrus clouds high in the atmosphere, letting the pinks and yellows clash against a blue background. No wonder this place was called Painted Sky.

Albert dug the palms of his hands into his eyes then rolled forward into a seated position shaking his head. “I really don’t deserve you, Arthur. Not three minutes ago I almost shot you and yet you still risked your life for mine without a second thought.”

Arthur also pulled himself up to be seated next to Albert’s right. “Maybe I’m as much of a dimwit as you are.” Albert turned his head to look Arthur in the eyes.

“Is that really the reason?”

“No. You know why.” He turned his head away, remembering the last time they almost broached the topic during their conversation in Blackwater.

But Albert placed his hand over Arthur’s, who rolled over in response and interlocked their fingers like they had so many times before. The action was as natural as breathing; it was almost harder not to.

“Please say it,” he whispered. “Please tell me now.”

Arthur looked back to see Albert’s eyes were glossed over again, but this time it was not out of sadness. He smiled gently.

“I did it because I love you.”

The wave of emotion that swelled in Albert was visible in his face and Arthur wondered if he looked the same in the moment. Tenderly, Albert leaned forward and kissed Arthur for the first time in days. It was delicate at first, but they both grew hungry for each other over the long absence. A few moments later Albert pushed Arthur flat on his back again and climbed over and straddled him to keep kissing.

When they finally took a moment to part and catch their breath they rested their foreheads against each other.

“I love you too.”

“Yeah, I think I figured that out.”

“Wiseass,” Albert smirked before going in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Past few chapters have been rough. I think our boys have earned some downtime.
> 
> Going through another playthrough earlier this year, I forgot how much I loved the gunslinger side quest (The Noblest of Men, and a Woman) where you're forced into a series of life-or-death quick draws (even if I sucked at the timing). I thought it would be funny if you could trigger a quick draw mini-game with any NPC in the game, but it wouldn't make sense with a lot of people, like what would lead up to a quick draw with the wildlife photographer you only see five times? Well fifteen chapters later, I guess here's my answer.
> 
> So obviously we're not doing a Guarma detour if some of the gang managed to trickle back to Shady Belle the same day of the bank robbery. Why not? There's no time for all that nonsense. How did some of the boys sneak out of the city? Don't worry about it.
> 
> Also, Dutch continues to be the character I struggle to write the most. I'm trying to keep him mostly in-line with his depiction in the game, but just with his descent into paranoia accelerated.
> 
> Finally, I came across this fan theory lately about "How does Dead Eye work?," and I loved it so much that I encourage you to read it: https://outlaw-unicorn.tumblr.com/post/618734857794797568/


	16. The Markswoman and the Late Learner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Albert try healing some wounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Arcadia for Amateurs V takes place in Caliban's Seat, not Painted Sky, but they're basically the same setting and I like the Painted Sky side of the river better.
> 
> This is more of a speed bump of a chapter, a chance to catch our breath before launching into the end and the climax, but I still think it was important to place here.

_7/29/99_

_Albert tried to shoot me but missed, so he threw himself off a cliff. Naturally I pulled him back up and told him I loved him. He had the courtesy to say he loved me back. Didn’t see many eagles though._

_[Sketch of Albert next to his tripod on a cliff. The sun on the horizon spreads its rays across the sky.]_

* * *

After being thoroughly distracted with making up for lost time and with barely half an hour of sunlight left, Albert decided to call it a day on trying to capture a picture of an eagle. He disassembled his equipment at the cliff’s edge under Arthur’s protective eye and they both rode their horses a short ride away to a small campsite with a single tent. Mr. Wróbel’s house was visible about two hundred feet away.

“This is where I set up last night. I think that house might be abandoned because no one answered when I tried to introduce myself, but maybe they’re just away? The house seems to be in decent condition.”

Arthur didn’t say anything.

“In any case, I doubt they’d be upset at us spending the night all the way over here. I did ‘borrow’ some water from their well however.”

“Now _that_ actually is a crime out in the desert.”

“I suppose that makes sense.”

The two men worked in silence to get a small fire going. There were still a lot of unresolved matters between them to discuss, and Arthur didn’t want to push his luck and risk losing the progress he’d made that day. But he was glad that Albert wasn’t actively pushing him away or pointing a gun at him anymore.

After rummaging around in Penny’s saddlebag, Albert came back with a small canvas he unwrapped to reveal three bluegills.

“I was going to have these for dinner; we can share if you like.”

“You caught these?,” Arthur asked, surprised. Albert nodded with pride.

“This morning, down by the river. I bought a fishing pole a few days ago and while I am a terrible fisherman, I at least already have the patience one needs.”

“I can definitely see you casting a line and just zoning out for a few hours in your own little world.”

“Hours? Hey, I’m not _that_ bad.” They shared a chuckle as Albert passed along a fish and they both got to work with their knives.

It was a conversation they would have to have eventually, so Arthur decided to take the initiative and get it over with. “So did you do anything else exciting since I last saw you?” He dared to sneak a glance at Albert to his left and saw the smile had left his face.

“Not particularly… Spent most of my trip in Blackwater in my hotel room. Wasn’t much in the mood to explore the town. It did seem charming though and surprisingly active for a place with no rail access.”

He skewered a chunk of cleaned fish on his knife and held it over the fire before continuing. “I returned to Saint Denis two or three days later, again just spending most of my days in the hotel. Eventually I decided to try taking another trip to increase my portfolio and figured eagles were benign enough to attempt on my own.”

“You made a little detour though, didn’t you?” They both looked down at the Volcanic pistol still resting in Albert’s holster.

“Well I figured it was finally time I got myself some protection, but it turns out firearms are considerably more expensive than I originally thought.”

“So you went and stole mine?” Arthur tried to strike a sarcastic tone and thankfully Albert picked up on it.

“I _found_ yours. Besides, it’s not like you were using it.”

“Sounds like a pretty uneventful two weeks.”

The brief semblance of a smile soon disappeared from Albert’s face. “Well I’m leaving out all the parts of me being miserable and depressed, but that’s not worth retelling.” Arthur felt a pang of guilt. “Had a few lunches with Mary, got a letter from my mother, that’s about it. What about you?”

Arthur took a deep breath. “I don’t know where to begin… Went back to camp and got found out by Pinkerton spies, so we had to run away before it turned into another shootout.”

“Well your group is used to traveling around, aren’t they?”

Arthur shook his head, “Not this much. We never moved four times in one year before like this, never. Pinkertons are breathing down our necks more than ever.”

“Where did you end up settling? Or can you not say?”

Matter-of-factly like it was no small thing, Arthur replied, “I can tell you anything you wanna know now, I ain’t in the gang anymore.” Albert’s eyebrows shot up.

“Oh.”

“I’ll get to that. But we set up in some old plantation house in the swamps closer to the city. I spent about a week there feeling sorry for myself, but I was also having conversations, trying to convince people to get ready to leave soon.”

“Have you been thinking about leaving for a while?”

“It’s been on the back of my mind. Hosea first brought it up two months ago and I’ve just been sitting on the idea until recently.”

“Who is Hosea?”

“He’s, uh…” A wave of grief blindsided Arthur and he fought back a frown and cleared his throat with a grunt. “He was like a father to me, really. Took me into the gang when I was 15. He taught me how to read, taught me how to write, taught me how to make a fire, how to fish, how to shoot a gun, how to ride…” He wiped at his eyes with his sleeves as his voice trailed off. Albert rested a hand on his shoulder.

He dared to ask in a low voice, “What happened?”

Arthur regained control of himself. “Yesterday I woke up and pretty much the entire gang besides me were ready to ride. Dutch and Hosea came up with a plan to rob the main bank in Saint Denis and told me to stay behind. Hosea was supposed to make a distraction in a different part of the city but Abigail came back to the house and told us he got captured. I took Sadie in to help the boys and… damned Pinkertons shot him in the middle of the street like a dog.”

He knew Albert didn’t know all of these new names he was throwing out there, but he seemed content to just wait and listen to Arthur to get it all out first before asking questions.

Arthur continued, “When the fighting stopped I tried to get the boys to come with me, but Dutch wanted to do it _his_ way and took ‘em all up on the roofs. He got Lenny and Sean killed up there, and no one knows where John or Charles are.”

“John, the same John you consider to be your brother?,” Albert asked, not realizing that he’d actually met the man. Arthur nodded.

“When I got back to the house I told Dutch I wanted out. Turned into a bit of a fight, but I calmed him down and was allowed to leave. But then _Micah_ mentioned you and I found out he read my journal so I tried shooting him. Whole place turned against me and I had to start a fire to leave.” Albert looked concerned when he was mentioned.

“Who is Micah? How does he know about me?”

“That son of a bitch in the jail cell in Strawberry. He saw you with me when we first got to the hotel.”

“The one who started the massacre?”

“Yeah. So then Sadie and I ran into the city to get Mary-” More confusion swept across Albert’s face, who no doubt was having trouble keeping up with the breakneck pacing of this retelling.

“Mary Linton? Wait, what does _she_ have to do with any of this?”

“I’d been telling Dutch that I was trying to rekindle things with her as an excuse to head into the city all the time. As an excuse to see you.”

“And you thought she was in danger.”

“I didn’t wanna risk it, so we picked her up. I was about to head to your hotel to get you, but that’s when she told me you weren’t in the city. That’s how I knew to come out here.”

Albert stared into the fire, holding the well-done fish in his lap. He hadn’t even taken a bite yet because he was so wrapped up in Arthur’s story. “And this was all _yesterday?_ And then you rode all the way out here? My god, you must be exhausted.”

“I am. And the worst part is I’m gonna have to get my shotgun fixed because you busted it up.” He flashed a smile at Albert to show he was just being playful, but he was having none of it and just shook his head.

“No, don’t do that. Don’t deflect. I know you’re trying to put on a strong face, but you went through a traumatic day yesterday. It sounds like you haven’t even had time to mourn your friends or process what happened.”

Arthur fully put his untouched cooked fish aside, no longer having much of an appetite. “You don’t wanna see me cry over people you never met.”

“I may have never met them, but they were obviously important to you. And if they were important to you, I’d like to know about them.”

Arthur was nervous to confront his thoughts and feelings out loud. Normally he’d just let them stew in his head for a while, write them down in his journal, then move on and focus on the next thing. But there was a sense of safety he had around Albert, earlier incident with the gun notwithstanding, that almost encouraged him to bare his soul open to another’s.

“Tell me about Hosea; what was he like? If you don’t mind, that is,” Albert prompted with a hand resting on Arthur’s leg. He smiled sadly into the fire as he pondered how to describe one of the most influential people in his life.

“He was sharp as a tack. He could make up a life story out of thin air and you would believe every word of it. And he was old for a crook, most don’t live as long as he did. He was kind if he liked you and ruthless if he didn’t. Hell, he probably would’ve robbed _you_ at first as a joke just to spook you then paid you back later.” 

“Sounds like he had your sense of humor,” Albert smirked at the hypothetical.

Arthur tilted his head back and looked up to the early night sky in a vain attempt to keep his eyes dry. “More like I had his. But he also taught me a lot of things besides being a criminal. Taught me how to appreciate nature, how to sleep rough, how to live off the land. I _know_ he would’ve loved your photos and what you’re trying to do.” He was surprised at how quickly the tears had started to freely fall from his face that distorted against his will into an unflattering grimace. The last thing he managed to get out before his voice fully broke was, “I really wish you could have met him.”

Albert pulled him into an embrace and they didn’t say much for a while.

* * *

Arthur kept talking about Hosea, then moved on to Lenny, then on to Sean, who he finally admitted to having seen as a younger brother of sorts. He talked about Dutch and the rest of the members that were still alive and Albert was beginning to understand that the Van Der Linde gang was a much bigger crew that he’d originally thought. For his part, Albert mostly listened and asked the occasional question where it felt necessary, but Arthur was always in full control of the conversation.

It was strange to speak his thoughts freely aloud and not be mocked or scolded for it. Maybe it was precisely because Albert didn’t know any of these people that it was so easy, but towards the end Arthur decided it was better than bottling himself up and pretending his grief wasn’t there, like he’d done too many times before.

After finally managing to get some food down, they both retired to Albert’s tent. Arthur’s body rocked with quiet sobs late into the night until exhaustion eventually overtook him. All Albert could do was rub his back and hold him from behind, a wordless reminder that Arthur was not alone.

* * *

The following morning Arthur explained he had loose plans to meet Sadie in Valentine, but at no set time. They broke down the camp and Albert took the opportunity and clear weather to attempt another go at the eagles. Arthur sketched in his journal while Albert worked from a location he deemed acceptable where there was little risk of any more slipping mishaps. Putting Albert’s form to paper felt familiar and therapeutic so Arthur added a cheeky caption to reflect his improved mood. The photographer managed to get some shots, but nothing he thought was particularly promising.

“Guess we’ll have to come back sometime soon!”

They took their time going north to Valentine, opting to catch some more fish and relearn to enjoy each other’s presence again after the long absence. They’d forged the river and stopped to cast their lines back into it on the shoreline in front of an abandoned town that looked to have suffered a horrible fire a long time ago. There was a sign that read, “Welcome to Limpany,” but neither of them had ever heard of the place.

“If I had enough film and flash powder left over I would have loved to get some shots of that place,” Albert mentioned while looking over his back.

Arthur was about fifteen feet to his left, so as to not get their lines tangled. “If you spent over an hour on that church near Rhodes, _that_ place would take you all day.”

“And I would have a fantastic time! You don’t have to tag along if you don’t want to.”

“I can’t leave you alone, knowing your luck you’d be inside one of those buildings when it finally decided to come crashing down.”

Albert said nothing but looked back at some of the worse-off structures. He was probably deducing that Arthur was right.

“That is,” he continued, “Assuming you even want me around anymore.” Albert gave Arthur a concerned look.

“Why would you say that?”

“I mean… you know what kind of man I am, that hasn’t changed just because of yesterday.”

Albert redirected his eyes to his hands and slowly cranked his reel uncomfortably. “I’m aware.”

“So?”

Albert took a while to collect his thoughts before speaking.

“After the last time I saw you I spent a lot of time in the hotel room reliving that conversation in my mind. As well as what happened on the train. It was hard to reconcile that you were the same man that I had shared some of the most tender, intimate moments of my life with, as well as the man who killed those two lawmen and apparently many more. But as difficult as it was, I had to accept that these two versions of you were the same man. There’s simply no way around it.”

“I never meant for you to see that side of me.”

“But I did. And I cannot forget what I saw. But in a strange way, I don’t want to forget that. I don’t want to have this fake image of you in my mind that’s different from the reality.”

“The reality is that I’m a killer though.”

“That’s not all you are, don’t be reductive,” Albert snapped. When Arthur remained silent, he continued, “I’m sorry.”

The sound of running water and the gentle clinking of two fishing reels was the only sound for a while. The fish were being stubborn today.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Al.”

“I want you to tell me what it’s like. To kill. What goes through your mind?”

He knew they weren’t native to this river but Arthur wished an alligator would swim up and grab him into a death roll to get out of this conversation.

“I guess… I mean it’s never a _good_ feeling. It’s usually fear. Usually it’s a ‘me or him’ kinda situation and I always wonder if that’ll be the time I miss my shot or my luck runs out.”

“Do you find yourself in those situations often?”

“Not by choice. I try to avoid ‘em, but in my line of work it’s bound to happen sometimes.”

“So I’m assuming you don’t enjoy it?”

“God, no, of course not! I’m not a maniac!”

“I know you’re not. I’m just trying to understand this side of you better. Do you feel sorry after you do it?”

Arthur paused when he thought he had a bite, but it was just the current of the river. Maybe his brain was just looking for any excuse to end the conversation before he said the wrong thing and scared Albert away again.

“When I was younger I did. Now I’m just kinda numb to it.” He thought back to the first handful of men he ever killed, those he could still remember. But after a certain point it all became a blur until the more recent ones stood out in his mind again. “You must think I’m some kind of monster.”

To his surprise, Albert shook his head, disagreeing. “To me it sounds like you're a victim of circumstance. In a way, you’re not that different to the wild beasts I’m trying to protect; You were born into a life of violence you didn’t choose and never had a chance for anything else. But you adapted in order to survive.”

Arthur didn’t care much for being compared to an animal, but held his tongue. After all, there were certainly more violent moments in his life where he’d felt more beast than man.

Albert kept going, “It wasn’t fair of me to compare my life experiences to yours. These past few months I’m learning that life in this part of the country isn’t always beautiful and idyllic, it can be hard and violent and short.”

“That’s true anywhere,” Arthur dismissed.

“Maybe, but it feels like it’s even more true out here.”

“So you’re comfortable with what I’ve done?”

“Not all of it, no. And don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to romanticize it either, I’m still deeply uncomfortable with it. But I know you’re so much more than your worst parts. And I get the impression that you at least have some empathy about the topic and have a desire to change.”

“I’d like to change,” Arthur agreed. “I’d like to stop hurting people. I know I’ll never make up for all the things that I’ve done. But some days I feel like I can put some good back into the world.”

Albert glanced over but Arthur was still too ashamed of himself and this conversation to return the eye contact. He pretended to focus harder on attracting one of these stubborn fish in the river that refused to take the bait.

“Then hang on to that feeling. For yourself if nothing else.”

* * *

They were quiet for a while afterwards and once they had each caught two fish they continued on their way to the livestock town. Valentine was slightly busier than normal; apparently they had just missed a sheep auction that drew in ranchers from the surrounding area. But they were still able to book a room at the hotel, a larger one on the first floor this time, and Arthur actually indulged himself in a bath, hoping to metaphorically wash away the stress from the past few days. When Albert had finished with his own wash, they crossed the main road and took up a table on the first floor in the saloon around 7 PM.

As far as he could tell, Sadie wasn’t here yet, so Arthur just ordered a whiskey and a gin from the counter. The bartender recognized him and gave him a stern warning not to cause too much trouble again. When he came back to the table with the drinks, it was obvious Albert had overheard.

“Should I be playing, ‘spot the wanted poster’ in here as well?”

Arthur huffed as he sat back down. “And you call _me_ a wiseass… No, me and Lenny were here a few months back and got a little too rowdy. Don’t remember exactly what happened, but we both woke up in the Sheriff’s cell the next morning.”

“Sounds like you had fun.”

“I did. Least the parts I remember. Miss that kid already.” He knew Albert had never met Lenny, but he still picked up his glass and held it up. “To Lenny.”

“To Lenny.” Albert joined in the toast and they both clinked and drank. When they put their glasses down, Albert was staring at something over Arthur’s shoulder towards the entrance.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, just a very interesting character just walked in.” Arthur looked over his left shoulder.

Sadie was dressed in her usual attire, now with a new shirt without blood stains, but most people weren’t used to seeing a woman in pants and suspenders while openly carrying a gun. She was scowling at a drunk man at the poker table up at the front who must’ve said something to her. Arthur couldn’t make out her response, but the man hung his head and the rest of his friends at the table began laughing. Arthur whistled and waved her over before things could escalate.

“What, you weren’t gonna come defend my honor?,” she asked sarcastically as she walked over and took a seat at the table.

“Looked like you had it under control.” Arthur gestured between his two friends, “Al, this is Mrs. Sadie Adler, she’s a friend. Sadie, this is Albert Mason.” He didn’t state his relation to Arthur, but he didn’t think he needed to.

“Pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Adler.”

“And you as well,” Sadie responded while shaking his hand over the table. “So what do you do? How do you know Arthur?”

“I am a full-time photographer, part-time damsel in distress as he’ll tell you.”

“Other way around, Al,” Arthur joked. That earned him an eye roll, but Sadie thought it was funny. Turning to her, “How’s your stomach?” She pulled a face.

“It’s fine. Stings like hell when I wash it, but at least it’s staying clean.”

“Were you injured?,” Albert inquired. Sadie nodded.

“Got shot right here,” she said, gingerly patting her abdomen. Her bandages weren’t visible under her clothes. “You ever been shot, Mister Mason?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“Nah, you don’t look the type. Hell, have you ever even fired a gun?”

Arthur leaned forward onto the table and rested his head on his hand to look directly at Albert. “Yeah, Al, you ever shoot a gun?” Albert aimed his focus straight ahead at Sadie and steadfastly ignored Arthur’s theatrics.

“I’ve only recently taken up a firearm for self-defense.”

“Late learner? Hey, no shame in that. I can show you some tips sometime if you’d like.” Albert’s eyebrows shot up.

“Are you a marksman? Or, perhaps I should say, ‘markswoman?’” Sadie smiled at Arthur.

“Oh, he is too precious.” Turning back to Albert, “No, I can’t do any fancy trick-shooting, but I can hold my own in a fight.”

Albert looked like he had more questions, but Arthur didn’t want to have the conversation go back to the ethics of violence because he had no idea where Sadie stood on the matter. Instead he asked her, “Where’s Mary?” Sadie leaned back in the chair, settling in for a long conversation.

“She’s safe. After we split up that night I took her up to Van Horn. We rented a room there, but I don’t think either of us slept a wink that night. She didn’t want to stay there and I didn’t want to leave her there, so we left early and I took her out to Emerald Ranch. There’s a bed and breakfast there she knew about.”

“Is she still there?”

Sadie shrugged. “Maybe. I told her if she wanted to leave, the train station was right there, but she hadn’t made up her mind yet when I left. But she’s doing fine. Maybe a little rattled, but she felt safer. She was actually worried about _you_ ,” she directed at Albert.

“Me?”

“She wasn’t sure if Arthur would find you in time before you came back to the city and you got snatched up by the gang. Looks like he found you though.”

“Arthur here has quite the talent for tracking me down in the wild. Nothing he hasn’t done before.”

Sadie slightly raised an eyebrow at Arthur, but he didn’t address it. “So you came here after dropping Mary off?”

She shook her head, “No. I went south and found Charles.”

Arthur instantly felt relieved. “He’s alive? How’d you find him? Don’t tell me you went back to the house.”

Nodding, “He’s okay. You know those woods by that abandoned town, Pleasance? I knew he always liked hunting that spot, so I hung around there and found him this morning.”

“What’d he say?” A worried look spread across her face.

“It wasn’t great. He said after Sean fell they all got scattered on the roofs, but he stuck with John. They managed to get down to the docks and after nightfall he swam out to a boat. But… well you know.”

“Shit…”

Albert looked confused. “What happened?”

Unintentionally, Arthur and Sadie both said at the same time, “John can’t swim.”

“Come to think of it, I don’t think Abigail can swim either,” Sadie mused. Arthur solemnly shook his head.

“Poor Jack never stood a chance.”

“I don’t think swimming is heredita-”

“Anyway,” Sadie interrupted, “Charles was almost to the boat before he remembered that and he didn’t have the strength to swim back around. Far as anyone knows, John’s still on those docks.”

“He’d be a fool if he stayed there. Least he could do would be to jump on a train and ride it out somewhere.”

“I don’t know, but I hope he’s alright. Charles said he got back to the house and had to help put out a fire, so I guess you just missed him. But with Pearson’s wagon getting torched, they didn’t have any food left so they sent Charles out to go hunting. That’s when I found him.”

“Are your lives always this complicated? I’m having trouble keeping up with all of these moving parts and characters,” Albert chimed in.

“Not at all,” Sadie disagreed. “I think this was all a long time coming though, it just came to a head all at once.”

“Where is Charles now?,” Arthur asked.

“Probably back at the house. I tried to get him to come with me, but he said he wanted to ‘see things through.’ Sounds like half the gang is gone though; Abigail and Jack weren’t at the house, but I think she’s been sitting on her own plan for a while now. Micah was missing too.”

That last bit was concerning to Arthur. No doubt Micah was looking for him, either on Dutch’s orders or his own initiative. But Sadie continued.

“He also mentioned something about another train job.” Arthur perked up at that.

“That was one of the last things Dutch mentioned to me. They wanted to hit another one of Cornwall’s trains, up by Annesburg this time. That crazy bastard is really going through with it?”

It was Albert’s turn to be surprised. “Cornwall, as in _Leviticus Cornwall?_ Your gang robbed one of the richest men in the country?”

“It’s one of the dumber things we’ve done, but it worked out the first time,” Arthur admitted.

“Charles made it sound like Dutch had a plan and they’d be going for it two days from now. This one’s a payroll train though; no passengers, but probably more guards.”

“They’re gonna get themselves killed!”

“Maybe, but it’s kind of out of our hands now, isn’t it? Dutch doesn’t seem to be in much of a reasoning mood right now.”

Leaving the gang had effectively turned Arthur’s world upside down overnight and he still wasn’t sure he had fully wrapped his head around it. This was the first time he’d realized that they would continue taking on jobs without him and he wouldn’t be around to help. He didn’t want Charles to get hurt or killed in this next job that was bound to go poorly. Nor did he wish that upon Bill, what with their new unspoken friendship or alliance or whatever it was. Javier shot at him back at the house, but that whole scene was a confusing mess and he was sure Javier would’ve understood if they had had a chance to talk.

When his thoughts fell to Dutch however things got muddled. He didn’t want any harm to come to his former mentor of so many years, but any ill fortune that befell Dutch would likely only serve to put Arthur’s fears of reprisal at ease.

Micah could rot in hell through.

The other two at the table no doubt sensed this inner turmoil Arthur was wrestling with. Choosing to move things along, Sadie asked, “So what are you boys gonna do now?”

Albert spoke first, “Well I’d like to return to my hotel in Saint Denis eventually; I left my developing equipment behind and I don’t want to leave the tab running indefinitely. Though it sounds like it might be a while before it’s safe to head back.”

“Developing equipment?”

“Yes. Oh I’m sorry, I should’ve explained: it's for my photography.” Sadie’s face lit up with recognition.

“Say, are you the one who took that picture of Arthur and the bear?”

“You’ve seen it?”

“The whole gang did, we all thought it was incredible!”

“Well yes, that was my work. And one of the more harrowing moments of my life I might add.”

“Speak for yourself…,” Arthur grumbled, reentering the conversation. “I don’t know what we’re gonna do. Lay low for a while I guess, but who knows how long it’ll be before Dutch cools off and I can try talking to him again.”

Sadie drew her eyebrows together in confusion. “You’re gonna try talking to him again? Arthur, you are the biggest threat to the gang, you know everything about them and they have no control over you anymore. If Dutch thought you sold us out to the Pinkertons before, he’s _definitely_ gonna think you’re doing it now.”

“Well what the hell am I supposed to do about him?”

Sadie cast an uncomfortable look to Albert for support, but didn’t find it in him. She looked back to Arthur, but he knew what she was going to say before she said it.

“No way, I’m not gonna kill Dutch.” There was a ferocity to his tone that surprised even himself. Even now, cast out, his first instinct was to protect his former leader and friend.

“Well you don’t gotta be the one to do it, but it would make things simpler for you, wouldn’t it? You wouldn’t have to hide and Mary and Albert here could go back to living their lives normally.”

At the mention of his name, Albert spoke up, “I’m comfortable with taking as much time as is needed to come to a solution. Preferably peacefully.” Arthur was acutely aware that those last two words were aimed at him. “Maybe we can tip off the Pinkertons about this train heist and let them arrest him?”

He hated to admit it, but Dutch behind bars wasn’t any more preferable to Arthur than him being dead. For years Dutch had extolled the value of being free and that had resonated deeply with Arthur. Being the one responsible for putting Dutch in jail almost seemed like a bigger betrayal. But he also wasn’t comfortable with killing him, especially after the conversation he had with Albert that afternoon. He could at least entertain the thought for this conversation.

“How would we do that? I can’t tip ‘em off, they’ll just arrest me as well.”

“Maybe I could do it?,” Albert offered.

“Why would they believe you? How would you have found out about it?” The photographer hung his head, stumped by the question.

They both looked to Sadie.

“What… me?”

“You don’t have a bounty on your head,” Arthur pointed out.

“And you recently left. You could claim you were held there against your will and escaped when everyone left for the bank robbery,” Albert added. She could see a plan forming in front of her in real time, but Sadie looked hesitant.

“What, you expect me to just flag down a Pinkerton and tell ‘em I know what Dutch’s next job is gonna be?”

“They have a small office in Saint Denis, I can give you directions,” Albert offered.

“I know it’s a big ask, but I think it’s the best plan we’ve got.”

“I’m not saying no, just… Let me sleep on it, alright? Right now Dutch probably isn’t thinking about me, but if we don’t play this right he’ll come after me as well. And I’m not gonna rush into a decision like that so quick.”

That was the last thing Arthur wanted; dragging more people into this mess. More _friends_ into this mess. Seemed like every day he had fewer of them.

The conversation had taken an even more serious tone that no one seemed comfortable with. Sadie stood up. “You two got me yappin’ ever since I first walked in and didn’t even let me get a drink yet. Some gentlemen you are! Let’s talk about something else; when I get back, I wanna hear how you two met.”

The two men watched her mosey over to the bar and flag down the bartender. Albert turned to Arthur, “I’m not so keen on telling her how a _coyote_ almost sent me packing home the first week I got off the train.”

“You almost went home after that?”

“I’d been having second thoughts the whole trip down to Saint Denis and almost talked myself out of the endeavor altogether. If that animal made off with all my equipment and you weren’t there to help me, I likely would’ve just given up on the spot.”

“I had no idea. I mean, yeah, you were obviously out of your element, but I thought you were at least enjoying yourself out there.”

“That first week did a number on my self-esteem, but things got better.”

“Well I’m glad I was there to help.”

“Me too,” Albert replied with a gentle smile. “Now do me a favor and try not to embarrass me too much in front of Sadie.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare.”

* * *

The story that the two men shared with Sadie quickly evolved into a tall tale worthy of the old pioneers. She listened to and laughed at and doubted and questioned everything they had to say and by the end of it she didn’t know what to believe. Albert and Arthur took turns interrupting each other to correct or embellish or downplay almost every facet of their first several encounters, from the number of wolves that surrounded them, from how large the alligator that chased Arthur was, from how close Albert had been to getting trampled by bison, to how many people attended and complemented Albert’s gallery showing. After multiple rounds of drinks, they were getting raucous and drawing irritated looks from the locals. At this point it was harder to _not_ eavesdrop on the conversation because they were all shouting over each other and the rest of the nearby patrons.

“You think _that’s_ bad? Tell her what you did to me yesterday, Al.”

Albert blanched as the smile was wiped from his face. “Noooo, no I can’t say.” But this only heightened Sadie’s interest.

“Well now you _gotta_ tell me.”

“If you don’t do it, I will.” Albert ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. Arthur couldn’t tell if he was blushing out of shame or the liquor.

“Well I… I shot him.” Sadie was mid-reaction when he already was holding a finger up in her face, “But! But, I did not hit him!”

“You came pretty damn close!”

Sadie looked comically concerned under the effects of the alcohol. “Albert, why would you shoot him?”

“I panicked! I wasn’t expecting to see him!,” Albert tried explaining.

“Son of a bitch pulled a quick draw on me, damn near blew my head off!” Now Sadie seemed skeptical.

“Wait, I thought you ‘only recently’ got a gun? How’d you come so close to killin’ sweet ol’ Arthur here?”

Albert threw his hands up, then crossed his arms and leaned back on the chair’s two back legs. “Let’s call it beginner’s luck.”

“Yeah, lucky for _me!_ You know what he did next?” Albert closed his eyes and was already shaking his head, but Sadie leaned in, enthused.

“What’d he do?”

“He threw himself off the cliff!” Sadie shot a surprised look at him and Albert absolutely had to contest this.

“Okay, I did not _throw_ myself-“ placing extra emphasis on the word to stretch it out to two syllables.

“Did too! You walked right up to the ledge and said ‘watch this.’” Albert was apoplectic at this and had to defend himself.

“I did not! Sadie, don’t listen to this man, what happened wa- oh!”

While trying to lean back farther in the chair to rest his feet on the table, Albert only succeeded in falling backwards and onto the floor knocking over several drinks and glasses in the process. Arthur and Sadie immediately stood up, and seeing that he was okay the three of them burst out in laughter.

They were escorted out of the establishment shortly after.

* * *

Although the sun had only set maybe five minutes ago it was noticeably cooler outside and the summer night air served to help sober up the trio once they left the saloon. They were resting on the bench in front of the general store, which was now closed for the evening.

Arthur looked to the man sitting on his right. “How’s your head, Al?”

“Fine for now, but no doubt I’ll be feeling it in the morning.”

“If you manage to hurt yourself indoors, I don’t know how you manage to survive going outside at all,” Sadie quipped. Albert recognized that there was no malice in the comment.

“Well Arthur certainly has his work cut out for him keeping me alive. Mrs. Adler, will you be staying at the hotel tonight?” She shook her head and made to stand up.

“Nah, I still got plans before the night is out. It was nice seeing you boys, but this did take longer than I thought it would.”

“You okay to ride?,” Arthur questioned.

“I’ll sober up soon enough.” 

“I’ll walk you to your horse,” he offered, and Sadie did not rebuff him.

The other two also got up, Albert opting to stretch his back.

“You people certainly like to move around a lot, and I have trouble enough keeping up with your stories. Well if this is where we part, it has been an absolute pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Adler.” She rolled her eyes but shook his hand.

“I ain’t no fancy lady like Mary, you don’t gotta talk to me like that.”

“Old habits die hard. Arthur, I’ll be in the room.”

“Sure, I’ll be there in a few,” he said as he waved off Albert towards the hotel. He and Sadie walked in silence towards Hera, who was hitched in front of the sheriff’s office on the other end of the single street that ran through Valentine.

When they were out of earshot of anyone they could see, Sadie cast a playful look towards Arthur. “‘The’ hotel room? You boys sharing a room tonight?”

“Sadie, I know you ain’t dumb, you know exactly what’s going on.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t tease you about it.” She went to the far side of the horse and dug out some hay to feed Hera before they headed out. Over the saddle she caught Arthur’s eye again. “Does he know?”

“Know what?”

“That you’re swooning over him! It’s plain to see that man has no awareness of his surroundings, so he might not even know how you feel about him.”

_Maybe she doesn’t know._

Arthur briefly looked around for bystanders, Bill’s words of warning always in the back of his mind, and said softly, “Sadie… we’re in love.” He didn’t know if the satisfaction he felt deep in his chest came from finally admitting it out loud to someone or from the genuine look of surprise on his friend’s face.

“That’s no small word to be throwing around,” she warned.

“I know it’s not.”

She studied him and saw that he was serious. “Well good, I’m happy for you.”

“What, no opinions about me being with a man?”

“Were I a younger girl, I might’ve felt a way about it; slighted maybe. Maybe jealous of Albert. But now? My heart’ll only belong to one man.” She grunted as she mounted Hera, “and it ain’t you.” Arthur chuckled at that.

“I’m sure you can do better than me.”

“You’re a good man, Arthur, don’t sell yourself short. But I _did_ do better than you.” Her eyes were distant for a moment.

“I don’t doubt it. Wish I could’ve met him.”

Sadie smiled then looked down at him, “I don’t think Jake would’ve cared much for you being in a gang, but you two would’ve gotten on otherwise.” She pulled up the reins and turned Hera south, back towards the hotel. Arthur followed at her side on foot.

“So where you headed anyway?”

“Tilly and Mary-Beth got out. Charles thinks they made it to Flatneck Station, hoping to catch a train and go back out west. I wanted to see if I could catch ‘em first, make sure they’re alright and say my goodbyes.”

“I didn’t think you were that close with the other girls.”

“I didn’t show it, but we were. When Dutch first took me in, I was in a world of hurt and didn’t know what was going on. But those two listened to me and helped me get back on my feet, and I’m grateful for that.”

“Well if you find ‘em, tell them I miss ‘em.”

“I will.” She sighed and looked to the west. The sun was set, but there was still some residual daylight peeking over the horizon, but not for much longer. “I’ll think about the plan and come back here tomorrow.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Get some rest, Arthur, you’ve had a hell of a week. And take care of Albert; he’s lucky to have you, but you’re luckier to have _him._ ”

“Don’t I know it. Alright, I’ll let you go. Look out for O’Driscolls.” She scoffed at that.

“They better look out for _me._ ”

* * *

Thankfully the hotel clerk working the counter was a different one from the last time they’d been here, and the woman spared Arthur the antagonism he received from the man who apparently had it out for bounty hunters. He knocked on the door to their room and Albert opened it shortly after.

Arthur set his hat on the nightstand as Albert wedged a chair back into place behind the door knob. He looked like he was in the process of settling in for the night when Arthur returned, wearing only a simple undershirt and his riding slacks, suspenders hanging from the waist.

“So what’d you think of Sadie?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman like her. I had to keep reminding myself that she was sitting there with a gunshot wound, not that you could tell from the way she spoke and carried herself. If I had any film left I would’ve asked to take her picture.”

“Well that won’t be the last time you see her, she said she’d come back to Valentine tomorrow.”

“Oh, that’s good.”

Arthur sat on the edge of the bed and started shucking off his boots and socks. Without looking up at Albert he said, “I, uh… told her about us.” He didn’t know how Albert would react to that.

Thankfully, he seemed dismissive. “I hardly think that was necessary; she spent two hours with us, she probably figured it out.”

Arthur chuckled and got to work on his vest buttons. “Apparently not, she thought I was swooning over you and you had no idea.”

“My god, do I really come off as that oblivious?”

“Nah, I think she’s more surprised I found someone who likes me back.”

Albert walked over to the bureau and poured himself a glass of water from a pitcher. “You know for someone who gives me hell for talking down about myself, you’re certainly just as guilty.”

“Yeah, I know.” He shrugged off the vest and walked over to the bureau to get his own glass. “I just wanted her to know though, I hope you don’t mind.”

Albert pondered it as he took a swig of water in an attempt to stave off a potential hangover. “If you trust that she won’t turn us in to the sheriff or something like that, then I trust her as well. I suppose I’m just more curious why it was so important to you.”

“She’s a friend and I wanna show you off. Hell, I’d tell the whole world about you if I could.” Arthur gently moved him out of the way to get some water and Albert blinked several times.

“ _Me?_ I’m sorry, I must’ve misheard you.”

“Yeah, you. You’re the most kind, patient, passionate… _handsome_ man I know. I want everyone to see you and be just as proud of you as I am.” He downed some water before looking to his right, seeing that Albert was dumbstruck.

“I… no one has ever said anything like that to me before.”

“I think the past few months have had a lot of ‘firsts’ for the both of us,” Arthur chuckled. His heart swelled when he managed to get a smile out of Albert with that.

“That’s certainly true.” He raised his eyes to meet Arthur’s and held them for a moment with a look that was equal parts happy and wistful. “I’ve missed you.”

He desperately wanted to joke that they’d spent the whole day together, but Arthur knew exactly what he meant.

“I missed you too.”

They both leant in at the same time, lips meeting in the middle. Arthur placed the glass to the side so he could wrap his arms around Albert, pulling him even closer than they already were. He pulled his head back for a brief moment.

“Hey, uh…”

“Is something wrong?,” Albert asked, letting his concern show.

“I’m having some trouble with these buttons, you mind helping me out of ‘em?”

Albert rolled his eyes and in a mockingly deep voice trying to imitate Arthur’s, “Bet you think you’re bein’ real slick right now.”

He laughed, and in his best imitation of Albert’s voice and accent, “That depends, is it working?”

Albert shoved Arthur flat onto his back on the bed. Neither of them said much else for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day I'll release a director's cut version of this chapter that's exactly the same except when Arthur asks “How’s your head, Al?”, he'll respond with "Haven't had any complaints."
> 
> Lot of catching up and exposition in this chapter, but again, I think it was important because there's a lot happening in the background that Arthur's not a part of (and by extension, you, the reader, wouldn't know otherwise). The fishing conversation is probably tied with another conversation in the next chapter as being the most difficult thing to write in this work; I must've scrapped it and started from scratch four or five times. And while I'm still not 100% satisfied with where it ended up, I couldn't not address the whole "I watched you commit two murders" thing.
> 
> Also, maybe it's implied off-screen during the boat ride to Guarma, but you never really see Arthur morn Hosea in-game which I think he absolutely would have. Let 👏 men 👏 cry.


	17. "I hate this plan"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A change of plans leads to a disagreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Monday's looking a little hectic tomorrow, so this one's going up a day early. This and the next chapter were originally written as one chapter, but it was way too long and kind of exhausting to go through in one sitting so I broke them up. Totally not an attempt to buy myself more time finish writing the last two chapters in time, not at all.

Unlike the Hôtel la Licorne in Saint Denis, this room did not have blackout curtains that seemingly made it impossible to wake up before 10 AM. As the sun’s first rays began to filter through the meager lace curtains and light up the room Arthur lazily opened his eyes and took his time waking up. To his right, Albert was still fast asleep, facing away from him and tangled up in the sheets in some way that Arthur didn’t quite know how he’d managed to do it. 

Were the room not already uncomfortably warm he would have slid over and curled his body’s around Albert’s. He wondered for a moment what it would be like to share a morning in bed like this in the dead of winter when there was two feet of snow on the ground outside. Arthur always had trouble keeping warm in the winter, but Albert was a veritable furnace when it came to body heat what with all his hair.

_There’s no way he’s gonna stick around until winter._

Pushing away his inner saboteur, he gently leaned over, kissed a part of Albert’s exposed back, and quietly got out of bed to get dressed.

* * *

The gunsmith was skeptical about Arthur’s “hunting accident” story, but was happy for the work in any case. Seemed that the rifling inside the barrel had gotten deflected so the shotgun would never fire perfectly straight in its current condition. The man told Arthur to come back later that afternoon.

After brushing and feeding both Ivy and Penny, he made a quick trip across the street to the general store to stock up on provisions in case he found himself out of town anytime soon. Tucked away in one corner of the shop was a small book section on a single shelf and Arthur always liked seeing if there was something new, even if he never had much free time for reading. As he scanned the titles written on the spines, one jumped out at him.

_Aldous Filson Mysteries: The Case of the Shrew in the Fog_

The name knocked the wind out of him as a fresh sense of grief took hold all over again. Hosea had loved that book series and taught Arthur to read through those dime novel mysteries. He hadn’t kept up with the newer ones that came out, but he knew Hosea did. Hosea probably never got the chance to read this latest issue though, and now he never would.

Arthur bought the book along with some canned goods and fresh produce silently, not in the mood to banter with the shopkeeper.

He came back into the hotel room to find Albert dressed, sitting in the made bed, and reading a newspaper.

“Morning.”

“Good morning.”

“Here.” Arthur tossed him an apple and started shining up his own.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” He joined Albert on the bed and in between bites he asked, “Anything interesting?”

“Seems the Saint Denis bank robbery is still the biggest story. No mention of a ‘John Marston’ however.”

That was good news at least. If John had gotten arrested, no doubt that would be advertised everywhere in an attempt to bait out a rescue, potentially scooping up or finally killing off the rest of the gang.

“Is that all?”

Albert hummed as he flipped it over, “I haven’t finished it yet, but I saw my picture for one of those thoroughbreds that man was trying to sell; I guess he sold one but not the other. Apparently there was a suffragette rally in the middle Rhodes, _that_ must have been quite the sight. Also some story about a man-eating lion that killed three farmhands at Emerald Ranch.” 

Arthur found that last bit amusing and chuckled in disbelief. “A lion? Like a _real_ lion? You believe everything you read, Al?”

“I used to, but perhaps the New Hanover Gazette isn’t as reputable as I once thought.” He folded the paper and inspected his Apple before choosing a spot to bite into it. “What have you been up to this morning?”

“Getting my shotgun fixed up and took care of the girls outside, that’s all.”

Mouth full of food, “Do you think it’s going to be expensive?”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. The guy knows me, maybe he’ll give me a discount,” Arthur lied. The truth was that now he was out of the gang he had no source of income. Not that being a criminal was ever steady money, but now he really didn’t know where his next dollar would be coming from. He still had some money, but it wouldn’t last forever and he certainly wasn’t going to ask Albert for help.

“I am sorry, by the way. I don’t think I ever actually apologized.”

“For what?,” knowing full well what he meant.

“For trying to shoot you. I… I don’t know what came over me in that moment.”

“It’s fine. Had you hit me I might’ve been a little mad, but you didn’t.”

“Yes, but I still had the intent to, and I’m sorry about that.”

The comment reminded Arthur of pinning John’s head to the wall of the train car with his shotgun. When John asked him on the beach if he would’ve done it Arthur said no, but he knew that wasn’t the right answer.

“Love can make you do crazy things. It’s fine, Al, really.”

Albert reached over and they locked their hands together.

“Okay.”

* * *

It was a lazy day for them. Arthur offered to go out and help Albert shoot some targets to get used to the gun if he was going to be keeping it, but Albert declined, wanting to stay in Valentine so as not to miss Sadie when she returned. They spent some time in the room, some time on the porch in front of the hotel, then Albert perused the general store by himself for a while. Later in the afternoon, Arthur returned to the gunsmith and picked up his shotgun, only a thirty dollar repair, could have been worse. Around dinner time they tried getting back into the saloon, but the owner kicked them out and they had to settle for the smaller venue closer to the post office. This was where Arthur had met that author whose name escaped him and the past-his-prime gunslinger Jim Boy Calloway, but there was no sign of either of them this evening.

“Do you think Sadie will know to find us here?” Albert quickly scanned the place over his shoulder from his barstool. It was a more low-key bar than the main saloon, and seemed to have more regulars that knew the sole barkeep.

“If we couldn’t get in the other place, she won’t either. She’s a hard person to forget, they’ll recognize her.”

“That’s certainly true.” Albert circled back around and swirled his gin around in its glass, hopefully trying to temper himself to avoid a repeat of last night. When the bartender had his back turned he quietly asked, “Have you thought about what to do if she doesn’t come back?”

Arthur had. They were running out of time. A trip down to Flatneck Station and back shouldn’t have taken all day. Any number of things could’ve happened. Maybe she couldn’t find Mary-Beth and Tilly but didn’t give up looking. Maybe she found them and was spending one last day with them before saying goodbye. Maybe she was just riding slowly on account of her injury. Maybe she got into trouble with O’Driscolls. 

Or maybe she decided she didn’t want to be a part of this plan.

Arthur took the time to mull all these possibilities in his mind before responding. “I think if she doesn’t come back…” He hated leaving the words hanging in the air like that, but he knew Albert wouldn’t like what came next.

“What?”

“I think I have to go out there. I have to stop this job.” Predictably, Albert scowled at the proposition.

“No. Arthur, no.”

“What choice do I have? If I don’t go, they’re all gonna die. I’ve been losing too many friends lately.”

“You don’t know that. Maybe they’ll run away when the fighting gets rough. Maybe they won’t even stop the train.”

“If any of that happens, I won’t know if I’m not there.”

“Well I’m sure we could keep an eye on the newspapers-“

“And what, find out a few days after? Meanwhile they’re still out there looking for us and we have no clue what’s going on?” He was careful to keep his voice down, but he couldn’t hide his agitation.

“Well we can… I don’t know, go somewhere else to hide for a while.”

“We shouldn’t _have_ to. _You_ shouldn’t have to. All of this is my fault and I wanna fix it for you.”

“I want it fixed too, but not if it means you’re risking your life for mine yet again,” letting his own irritation show.

Arthur shook his head in frustration knowing they were just talking past each other. The bartender came back down to their side and after pouring them new drinks, went back to the other end to continue a conversation with a regular he seemed to know.

“You could come back to New York with me,” Albert offered meekly, as if he already knew the answer. Arthur scoffed at the suggestion.

“Can you see me being in New York? I can barely stand Saint Denis, I can’t imagine what a city ten times that size would be like.”

“I am having trouble imagining it, yes. But I’d love to take a photo of that.” They shared a chuckle over the brief moment of levity. “I just hate the idea of you going out there alone, but I also understand that I’d only be getting in the way if I came along. I wish I could be more competent like you; I hardly feel like a man at all sometimes when I compare myself to you.”

Normally he’d scold Albert for talking about himself this way, but this seemed to be a particular sentiment he’d never expressed to Arthur before. This felt different, a new vulnerability, especially judging by the way Albert couldn’t even look at him while saying this.

“I don’t think you’re any less of a man than I am. Never did. Hell, you nail the look down better than I do,” giving a quick playful tug at Albert’s longer beard. He swatted Arthur’s hand away, but there was a hint of a smile there.

“Arthur, I’m serious.”

“So am I. Shooting a gun and fighting and killing don’t make you a man. And if it did, I wouldn’t want you to be one. Hell, I’m glad you’re different from me. World would be a better place with more men like you and less like me.” That got a momentary albeit wistful smile out of the photographer.

“But I still feel helpless. I feel like I can’t offer you anything meaningful if you go out there. What am I gonna do, take some pictures of the Pinkertons to distract them? I don’t even have any flash powder left so I can’t even do that!” He hung his head and stared into his drink. “I’m just someone who reacts to events that happen _to_ me, I have no control over anything in my life it seems.”

Arthur gently slid a hand to his right under the bar counter and rested it on Albert’s leg. He had been bouncing it anxiously, but it became still at the touch.

“You offer me a reason to come back safe,” he whispered. Albert said nothing and didn’t move, so he continued, “If I were a younger man I would throw myself at that train and all the guards on it if I thought I could save just one of my friends. Because I had nothing outside the gang. That’s not the case no more.”

“Because you’re not in the gang anymore,” Albert huffed.

“Well, that, but also because I have something else now. Something better. I’m not gonna be stupid about this, Al. I’ve got no reason to be reckless, I just wanna try and see if I can turn things around.”

“And if you can’t?”

“Then I’ll leave. I know Dutch, I think I have a shot at talking him down. But if I can’t, and none of the boys come with me, I’ll come straight back here and we’ll figure something else out.”

Albert lowered his own hand under the counter and held it around Arthur’s giving it a little squeeze and receiving one back in acknowledgement. Then they both pulled above the counter and leant forward, hoping no one saw that brief moment.

“And you have control over your life. You always do. I mean, no one made you leave New York, right?”

Finally Albert seemed to lighten up and level a look at Arthur to his left. “Oh I see, this is all _my_ fault?”

“Hey, you said it, not me,” Arthur replied before taking a sip of his drink.

“You are so awful to me,” Albert said, not meaning it at all.

“I know.”

Arthur looked over his shoulder towards the door and windows. Still no sign of Sadie. He twisted back into place and caught Albert looking at him wistfully, no doubt still ruminating on the topic they just discussed.

“Thank you, Arthur.” _For saying what you did._

“Thank _you_ .” _For giving me a reason._

* * *

Sadie never showed up.

The bar wasn’t closing, but it was obvious that something had come up. Either she couldn’t or didn’t want to return to Valentine that evening. If the former, Arthur hoped she was alright. If the latter, well, he couldn’t blame her. They left the smaller bar around 11 PM and took their time meandering back to the hotel, a fruitless attempt to stall the inevitable. There was a tacit understanding that Arthur would be leaving tomorrow.

There was a desperation to the way they made love that night, an urgency. They both knew it. Knew it might be their last chance, the last time, and they were both determined to make every moment count.

* * *

Arthur awoke to find the other half of the bed empty. Judging by the light in the room it was maybe an hour and a half past sunrise by his guess. Sitting upright in the bed he realized he wasn’t alone however. Albert was sitting in a chair on the opposite side of the room, facing him, one leg crossed over the other and boots fresh with mud. He was writing in that book that Arthur assumed was his own personal journal, but had never thought to ask about. Albert didn’t seem to write in it half as often as Arthur jotted his own thoughts down, unless he was just more discreet about it. Seeing that Arthur was awake, he calmly tucked the pencil into the spine and folded the journal shut. They watched each other for a stretch of time.

“I hate this plan, Arthur.”

Barely louder than a whisper, “I know.”

Outside, the butcher who was set up outside of the hotel began shouting his daily wares and going rates. The town dragged itself from slumber into a new day, oblivious and uncaring about the silent conflict between the two lovers in this room.

“...I can’t talk you out of this, can I?”

Arthur said nothing. It was easier than lying or offering false hope.

Sensing that nothing more was coming, Albert stood up and walked over to sit on the edge of the bed next to Arthur. He procured a sheet of paper from his back pocket and handed it over. Unfolding it, Arthur could see a complex chart of destinations, dates and times.

“What’s this?”

“It’s a train schedule. I convinced the clerk at the station to give me one this morning.” He leant forward and pointed to a specific row and column. “There’s a train leaving Annesburg at 8:10 PM tonight, bound for Valentine. It’s not expected to arrive here until 11:25, but it bypasses Emerald Station.”

Arthur looked over the numbers in front of him, but it wasn’t making sense. “I’m not following.”

Albert flipped the paper over and revealed a rail map, smaller but similar to the one Dutch had been studying. “It shouldn’t take a train that long to cover that distance, unless it was making another stop in between for some reason.”

“But it’s skipping Emerald Station.”

“So there’s only one other place it could stop.” He pointed at a spot on the map labeled “Cornwall Kerosene and Tar.” “That’s your train.”

Arthur was now realizing that he didn’t actually know much about this alleged train job other than it was sometime today and leaving from Annesburg. He was hoping to just follow the tracks and see if he happened upon a heist in progress or maybe find Dutch and the boys before they started the job. It could have easily been a waste of a day if his luck didn’t hold up and they’d be right back to where they were now. Instead, Albert had figured out more or less where and when Arthur had to be. 

“You didn’t have to do that.” There was no anger or irritation in Arthur’s voice. More sadness than anything else.

“But I did. I wanted to feel some semblance of control over the situation, and it’s the least I could do to help.”

“Thank you, Al.”

Albert slid closer and held Arthur’s free hand with both of his own. “You better come back to me. Alive and in one piece, do you understand?”

“I do.”

“And I know this might sound hypocritical or selfish of me, but… I want you to do _whatever_ it takes to do that. I’ll understand.”

_So much for “hold onto that feeling.”_

“I will. And _you_ better still be here when I come back.”

“I will. I promise.”

A brief kiss later and Arthur was swinging his legs out of the bed and getting dressed. Annesburg was a bit of a ride, but he’d certainly get there before sundown, entirely too early, if he left now. But the longer he waited before departing, the harder it would be. They shared a quiet breakfast in the room and after a final embrace and tender exchange of “I love yous”, Arthur was out the door.

* * *

_7/31/99_

_I hope I am not making a mistake._

* * *

The eastern part of the state of New Hanover was not Arthur’s favorite stretch of country. Too hilly and rocky, and the roads were hell on Ivy judging by the way she whinnied and nickered whenever she realized they were about to climb up yet another incline. Still, it was not unfamiliar territory, as he had searched this land high and low during that week or so after he lost track of the gang, before he had run into Charles again. Every so often they would pass a cabin or a fork in the road or a specific river crossing and Arthur would recognize it as a place he’d ridden Ivy past during the last time he was in these parts.

The weather was holding up, for now at least, and he treated himself to a mid-afternoon rest. Over a small fire he cooked the two fish he’d caught during that difficult conversation with Albert; understandably they had started to turn foul, staying in Ivy’s saddlebags for two days, but Arthur had forced down worse meals before. Still, the fish served as a reminder of the discussion and his mind began to wonder about how violent the evening would be. There was no question that men would die, men who probably didn’t even know that their time was near. It was just a question of how many and by whose hand. Arthur hoped he wouldn’t count himself among the dead before the night was out.

* * *

There was no point in following the train as soon as it left Annesburg, Dutch wouldn’t hit it right out of town and following it from the get-go would be suspicious as well. Under the cover of night, Arthur rode Ivy parallel to the rails from as far away as he could while still keeping it in line of sight through the trees and hilly terrain. If nothing else, the train would be all lit up so he’d be able to see it before anyone on it saw him. Despite knowing this, he still wasn’t prepared for the situation he saw before him.

He was maybe just past the halfway point from Annesburg to Van Horn when he saw the train. It was stationary on the tracks, and there were obviously guards inside and outside of it, but there was no indication of fighting, no sounds of gunfire. Not even the train’s horn or bell were being sounded. If it was a trap, they would’ve made it look at least possible to attempt to rob the train, but the scene playing out maybe three hundred feet away from Arthur looked more like a dare, a challenge to any would-be thieves. Not wanting to attract unwanted attention to himself, Arthur slowed Ivy, dismounted her, and left her just behind the crest of the hill, out of sight from the train. He readied his Lancaster repeater and crouched as he tried to get a better view.

It took maybe two minutes of very careful footwork to get closer to the front of the train. From this new position behind a massive fallen tree trunk Arthur could see maybe four or five men pushing a wagon with an oil tank on top of it off of the tracks. That made sense; it worked the last time and Bill certainly knew what to expect from that oil yard they likely stole it from. But if the tank was what stopped the train, why didn’t the boys follow through with the robbery? Maybe they saw all of the guards and backed off at the last minute?

Or maybe they tried and failed. Maybe Arthur was too late and they were already dead.

He couldn’t leave without getting some answers, but two men began walking away from the engine car and into the woods, closer to Arthur’s hiding spot. They were walking calmly, and their weapons weren’t drawn, so they likely hadn’t spotted him, but he couldn’t risk moving now or else he would definitely be noticed. The footsteps came to a stop maybe 15 feet away from Arthur.

“What’s all this secrecy about? You luring me out here to shoot me in the back or something?”

_Micah?_

“Nothing of the sort, Mr. Bell. Is that what you’re planning to do to me? I’ll remind you that I have forty agents on that train right now.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, friend.”

“Of course not. I merely assumed you wouldn’t want to have this conversation in front of your former gang members.”

_Former? What the hell is going on?_

“Makes no difference to me, I think they probably figured it out by now.”

“Well it makes a difference to me. You see I told my superiors that you were a plant within the gang, not an actual member, and I’d rather the rest of my men not know that fact.” This second man’s voice was familiar, but Arthur was having trouble placing it without a face. He couldn’t chance coming out of cover just yet however.

“What, making deals with criminals who want to get out of the life isn’t going ‘by the books?’”

“No. But doing things by the books hasn’t been working out for us as you’re well aware.”

“Sure. So what’ll happen to them? Do I gotta worry about them coming after me?”

“They’ll be transported to Van Horn; there’s a boat waiting to take them to Sisika Penitentiary tonight, where they’ll be held until their trials and then presumably hanged shortly thereafter. Although it doesn’t seem like Mr. Van der Linde will make it through the night from what I saw.”

_Dutch is hurt?_

“Yeah, well, he picked the wrong moment to start doubting me.”

“Oh don’t misunderstand me, Mr. Bell. While I would have preferred he have his day in court and end up with a noose around his neck, I am not opposed to Dutch dying in that wagon tonight. For the past five months my top priority has been his capture and… _removal_ from the equation.”

“Which is why you took a deal from a low life like me.”

“I’m an opportunist if nothing else.”

“You and me both,” Micah chuckled but the other man did not join in. It turned Arthur’s stomach. He desperately wanted to reveal himself and choke the life out of both these men, but there was no scenario where Arthur could do that and survive. All he could do was clench his jaw and continue hiding.

Micah continued, “So about the money…”

There was a pause. Then, “You held up your end of the deal, I will hold up mine.” The second man called out back towards the train, “Agent Ross!”

With this brief moment of distraction, Arthur peeked over the top of the trunk he was knelt behind. Micah and this second man were looking back towards the train as a new, third man was now approaching with a large satchel slung over his shoulder. He snuck a quick look at the man Micah was speaking to before ducking back down. Even in profile view in the relative darkness he could swear he knew that face.

It was the Pinkerton that had killed Hosea.

The third man, obviously another Pinkerton agent, finally approached, but said nothing. It sounded like the satchel was exchanged and opened.

“As promised, half up front, half to be collected later.”

“How much is in here?,” Micah asked.

“Five thousand dollars.” _Jesus._

Not enough for Micah, judging by his irritated tone he took with the Pinkerton. “That’s only half of _Dutch’s_ bounty, what about the rest of the boys I bagged for you?”

“Do not look a gift horse in the mouth, Mr. Bell. Or need I remind you that Dutch’s full ten thousand dollar bounty is only applicable if he’s alive? Given his current condition, I think I’m being fairly generous.”

_I gotta get to Dutch, where the hell is he?_

Micah huffed his disapproval, but didn’t push the matter further. “Where’s the second half?”

“Being held with the head clerk at Valentine Station.”

“The same guy who ratted us out the first time?”

“Lester Henderson is a dedicated public servant who just so happens to pay attention to wanted posters. If you want to be mad at anyone, direct it at your friend Arthur Morgan for not using an alias with his correspondence.”

Arthur’s blood froze.

“Arthur’s no friend of mine.” Micah spat on the ground for effect and for once Arthur could agree with him on something.

“He’s also not here tonight, which is why his bounty is deducted from your payout. Where is Mister Morgan currently?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll find him soon, I’m close.” Hopefully just a bluff.

“And Mister Marston?”

“Look, I’ll find them, alright? Just give me more time.”

 _So I guess_ no one _knows where John is._

“Through non-violent means, I hope. Understand that even though I’m unable to get your record expunged, I’m effectively giving you a new lease on life. With the money in that bag alone, there is no reason for you to ever commit a crime again.”

“Oh, trust me, _Mr. Milton_ , next time you hear about me I’ll be a model citizen. I’m gonna settle down, have kids- hell, I might even start voting!” Even from his hidden location, Arthur could plainly see Micah’s current expression in his mind; that fake smile that didn’t reach his eyes and meant nothing.

“Truly, a victory for democracy,” the Pinkerton named Milton responded, dryly. “Well I believe we’re done here; this train still has a delivery to make tonight. Agent Ross here will accompany you to collect the second half of the bounty.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’ll be necessary, I can get myself there just fine.”

A pause, and a silence that stretched on for seconds. Finally, Milton replied, “As you wish.” Now it seemed that the three men were walking away, back towards the train judging by how Arthur had to strain harder and harder to make out the words. “You’ve done your country a great service today, Mr. Bell. I ask that you don’t squander-”

Arthur had had enough. This was going even worse than the worst-case scenario he’d imagined. Dutch was apparently hurt and on death’s door, the rest of the boys were going to jail tonight, and Micah was getting paid for it. Every muscle in his body was tensed, ready to pop up over the log and start firing at everyone he could see. He could get the drop on Micah and Milton, definitely. The third man would likely be able to get into cover and return fire though if he was worth his salt. And assuming Milton was telling the truth, there were forty other agents on the train that no doubt would follow the sound of gunfire.

It wasn’t worth it. Not worth risking his life over revenge and breaking his promise to Albert. Instead, he clenched his jaw and willed his body to stay in place and let the trio walk away safely.

In the distance, he could hear the hooves of several horses begin to thunder into a rapid pace. He dared another peek over the trunk to see a lantern-lit prisoner wagon drawn by two horses appear from behind the far side of the train, surrounded by six or seven other Pinkertons on horseback. A pretty serious security detail like that could only mean one thing.

Arthur snuck back up the slope, less meticulous and careful than his descent, and climbed atop Ivy. Knowing they were heading to Van Horn, he estimated that the small outpost was only maybe ten or twelve minutes away at the pace the wagon was going at, and they already had a headstart on Arthur. He steered Ivy south and once he was confident he was out of sight of the train he set her off as fast as he could, hoping she wouldn’t fall. A wrong step here and at this speed in the hilly woods at night could be fatal for the both of them, but his mind was already racing with how to approach the situation. He didn’t have much time.

That’s when he heard gunshots ringing out in the distance ahead of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "But Lander," you say, "Look at the game map; you can't take a train from Annesburg to Valentine without going all the way down through Saint Denis first." To which I respond, "Obviously this takes place in an AU where everything is held the same except the New Hanover state government put a higher priority on infrastructure spending, so don't worry about it."
> 
> Also, Chapter One of this work took place on May 29th, so it'd be kinda fun to "follow" this fic in real time now that it's summer. Maybe I'll put up a detailed calendar or something up at the end.
> 
> Also also, it should be obvious but this is the chapter where we fully go completely off-the-rails with respect to canon divergence. But there is a plan and a fixed ending; I'm not just winging it from here on out.


	18. Never leave love aside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur speaks with Dutch to clear some things up between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's going up a day early again. Maybe I should just switch to a Sun/Wed schedule? I'll think about it, but we're almost at the end anyway.
> 
> Picks up immediately where the last chapter left off.

Instead of following the train tracks, it seemed the wagon and its escort detail had stayed on a road that dipped away from the coastline, into the hills. As he raced Ivy forward he could see the wagon had come to a stop, its driver slumped over and not moving. The Pinkertons on horseback were scattering and firing wildly as maybe a dozen guns were shooting at them from the treeline to the right.

“Let’s show ‘em who these hills belong to, boys!”  _ Murfrees. _

Arthur had heard nothing but terrible and grotesque stories about the Murfree Brood from locals and he had no intention of sticking around or letting his friends be captured by them to find out if they were true. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be thankful for the distraction they were providing at the moment. He’d only have one shot at this.

Steering Ivy to the left and down a slope, he positioned himself out of line of sight of the treeline before dismounting. Most of the Pinkertons were now charging into the trees to push back the Murfrees, but the slope on that side of the road was too steep for their horses. One Pinkerton had stayed back with the wagon, but hadn’t noticed Arthur yet.

He crouched low and sprinted up to the wagon. The previous driver was slouched over, barely staying in place on the driver’s bench. Poor bastard had a hole in his head. Arthur grabbed the man’s vest and using his own body weight, unceremoniously dragged him over the side and onto the ground before climbing up and taking the reins himself. The sole horseman who stayed behind noticed Arthur at this point and began leveling shots at him. Arthur ducked and took out his Volcanic. He waited for two more shots to whizz past him a little too close for comfort before straightening up and returning fire, striking the man in the shoulder, causing him to scream and drop his gun.

“Arthur? I don’t believe it.” It was damned good to hear Charles’ voice again.

Arthur slung his Lancaster repeater off his back and handed it to Charles through the bars. “Don’t thank me yet, just buy me some time! Yah!” Snapping the reins on the two jittery horses’ backs set them moving again. He whistled for Ivy to follow, then reached over to grab the lantern on his driver’s side and threw it off into the woods.

Next, he dared to look backwards into the cage. Charles was already at the back of the wagon lining up a shot on a Pinkerton that broke off and was following them. Bill was sitting opposite him, holding Javier who was nursing what looked like a gunshot to the leg. Dutch was lying on the floor between all of them, flat on his back.

“How’s Dutch doing?”

“He’s fading in and out. Get us out of here, Morgan!,” Bill barked.

“I’m trying! Here,” he said as he passed his Volcanic back to Bill, who immediately took it.

He was beginning to regret tossing the lantern so early, the roads were winding in this region and it was getting hard to see more than a few dozen feet in front of the horses at this speed. Still, it was probably the right move because it would make them harder to follow in the night. It seemed like only a few of the Pinkertons managed to untangle themselves from the Murfrees and follow after them, but Charles and Bill managed to make short work of them while Arthur focused on the road. He had no idea where he was going, but he was making a concerted effort to steer away from Van Horn.

* * *

He wasn’t sure how long they had been pushing the horses to their limits, but the pursuers seemed to be long gone when Charles reached a hand up through the cage onto Arthur’s back, who jumped at the touch.

“We have to stop.”

Arthur didn’t want to. It wasn’t that he didn’t think they were safe, and it wasn’t that he didn’t want to get his friends out of the cage. It was that he didn’t want to face what he was about to see in the back of the wagon. Still, he relented and brought them all to a stop at the banks of what he assumed to be the Kamassa River. They probably would’ve had to cross it on foot anyway.

Arthur climbed down and around to the back as Bill shot the lock off with Arthur’s pistol. Once the gate was open, Bill climbed out and clapped Arthur on the shoulder.

Sounding genuine, “Thanks, Morgan.”

“No problem. What the hell happened back there?” He took his pistol back from Bill.

“Micah set us up,” Charles responded. He was carefully trying to pass Javier, who was muttering a string of curses in Spanish, to Bill’s waiting arms on the outside. “The whole thing was a trap.”

“I saw you used the oil tank to stop the train, what happened after that?”

“The train stopped, but nothing happened. No one came out to inspect it, no one was looking out the windows, there were no guards at the rear. It was like an abandoned train,” he continued.

“It didn’t feel right,” Bill chimed in. “It was too easy, so we didn’t move in. Micah started barking at us to go in, but Dutch didn’t like it either, so he told us to wait. That’s when Micah shot him in the back.”

“Once that happened, all hell broke loose,” Charles picked up. “The Pinkertons swarmed out of hiding on the train while Micah ran off. We tried staying with Dutch but they surrounded us. Once Javier got shot, we had to give ourselves up, there was no way we could fight our way out of that.”

All Arthur could do was run a hand over his face and rub his tired eyes. “What a goddamn mess…”

“Arthur?” A faint voice he barely recognized came from inside the wagon. He looked at the other three and received somber faces in response. Charles jerked his head in the cage’s direction, as if to give a tacit promise of privacy.

Arthur pulled himself inside the cage and sat on the left bench, looking down at Dutch who seemed conscious now. His face and skin were noticeably pale, even in the dark. There seemed to be a lot of blood on the floor of the wagon, not all of it soaking into the wood. It was jarring seeing the man he’d followed and looked up to for more than half his life laid low like this, but he tried putting on a strong face nonetheless.

“Yeah Dutch, I’m here,” he replied quietly.

“You came back.”

“I did. I know you told me not to but…” He wasn’t able to come up with a quip in the moment.

Lowly, so none of the others outside could hear, “Arthur, I have been such a fool.”

“Well I could’ve told you that,” he said through a strained smile. At least it got a slight chuckle out of Dutch.

“You were always such a  _ smartass _ . You got that from Hosea.” At the mention of their friend’s name, Dutch sighed. “I always knew I wouldn’t last a week without him.”

“It’s almost like you were  _ trying _ to get yourself killed though. What were you thinking trying to do another train job right after the bank?”

“I thought it was the right thing to do.” There was no frustration in Dutch’s voice, just exhaustion. “I just wanted to take care of everyone. Every single decision I made, I made for all of us, I want you to know that.”

“Then why’d you push me away, Dutch?” He was letting the pain of rejection that he’d been ignoring finally show in his voice. “I wanted to help, but you stopped letting me. Why?” Dutch pulled his eyes away from Arthur’s to look straight up into the night sky. He wore an expression Arthur had never seen on him before, something almost resembling…  _ embarrassment? _

“I was afraid. I thought you were going to betray me. I thought you were going to leave and turn us all in for our bounties. You spent so much time away that I never knew what you were doing, what you were thinking anymore.”

The admission blindsided Arthur. Dutch being afraid of him was something he’d never even considered. Angry and distrusting, yes, but fear wasn’t something he knew Dutch was even capable of.

“I would never. I gave you everything I had, all my life, you know that.”

“I see that now. Even after everything, after how I treated you, you still came back. Just wish I saw that before Micah shot me in the back, literally.” Arthur felt ashamed at the flash of jealousy that flared within him at the name.

“Why did you lean on him so much? He’s barely been with us a year but he always had your ear.”

“I… I don’t know. I know he was just stroking my ego, telling me what I wanted to hear, but I needed that. You see how big the gang’s gotten, this ain’t a three-man operation anymore. I’m making decisions for so many people and the constant doubting and second-guessing was wearing me down. Micah never doubted me.”

Dutch’s speech was slowing down and getting lower. He almost seemed winded from that last exchange. Arthur, still leaning forward, clasped one hand over the other in a mock prayer, hoping Dutch could hang on longer.

In a tone dripping with menace, “I will get that bastard. He’s not gonna get away with what he did to you, I promise.” At this, Dutch pointed a finger at Arthur.

“Revenge is a fool’s game, Arthur.”

“So what, I should just forget about him?,” he scoffed. “No, I can’t let this slide.”

“No, I want you to kill that bastard,” Dutch was quick to add with a sudden familiar vigor that amused Arthur. “But don’t do it because of me. Do it for yourself, so he stops coming after you and… your people.”

That pause struck Arthur as odd, even in his current state, Dutch was never one to trip over his words.

“My people?”

It was dark, but Arthur could tell Dutch was trying to search his eyes, trying to decide on what to say next.

“Micah told me something about you. Something I didn’t know what to think about.” A sense of dread gripped Arthur from the inside, but he dared not show it.

“Well it’s Micah, it was probably a lie. You know he never liked me.”

“He said he found your journal. He said you were in love with a man. Said it was all you wrote about.”

Arthur was never good at thinking up lies on his feet when put on the spot, he always relied on Hosea and Dutch to do that. He was more suited for shooting and fighting his way out of unavoidable situations. But that wasn’t going to work here. He shifted in his seat and darted his eyes around uncomfortably.

“Did he...  _ show _ you the journal?”

“No. But he gave a lot of details and specifics. Too many to just be something he made up. A man named Albert from New York? A photographer staying at a French hotel in Saint Denis?”

“Well, yeah, he’s a friend of mine. The one who saved me from that bear.” Dutch seemed unconvinced and narrowed his eyes.

“None of this was ever really about Mary, was it?” Arthur wet his lips and swallowed, throat suddenly feeling very dry.

“Look, leaving love aside, can’t a man have some privacy?”

“Don’t you never leave love aside, Arthur. It’s all we’ve got.” Arthur wanted to roll his eyes at the man waxing poetic, even in this condition, but a hand wrapped around his calf brought him back into the moment. “I just wanna know if it’s true or not… I won’t judge, not you. You’ve seen all the kinds of folk I’ve taken under my wing over the years.”

The Van der Linde gang certainly was made up of quite the diverse cast of characters at its peak.

“Why do you care so much?”

“I know life hasn’t been kind to you, but if you found someone that makes you happy… I just want to know that I’m not leaving you in this world alone.”

It was the closest they’d come to addressing the elephant in the room; Dutch was dying in that cage tonight. They both knew it, even if they didn’t dare say it aloud. It was for that reason Arthur knew he had nothing to gain from lying. And he’d be a hypocrite if he did; just two nights ago he told Albert how he wanted to show him off to the entire world. That hadn’t changed.

He also thought back to Hosea, and the regret that filled him when he realized that he would never get to meet Albert, never even learned about this wonderful man that had filled Arthur’s life with such joy he thought he’d never feel again. He didn’t want to repeat that with Dutch.

Arthur wordlessly nodded his head and looked away. Dutch gave a small huff of surprise.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He felt ashamed to admit it, but Dutch deserved to know. “I didn’t trust you. Didn’t trust that you would understand me falling for a man, a fancy city feller no less. I didn’t trust that you wouldn’t get him wrapped up in one of our messes, thought maybe you’d threaten him to get me to do things for you.”

Sounding genuinely offended, “Is that how you see me? Some kind of… manipulative bigot?”

“You kept pushing me away, Dutch, ever since Blackwater. I felt like I didn’t recognize you no more. I had no clue what to think.”

“I felt the same towards you… It sounds like a lot of this could’ve been avoided if we just talked to each other.” There was the faintest hint of an apology in the delivery, likely the closest thing Arthur would get to an olive branch knowing how proud Dutch was.

“Well we’re talking now, ain’t we? Clearing some things up.”

“That we are, son.”

Arthur had been so focused on Dutch for the past few minutes he didn’t know what the rest of the boys were up to. He took the natural break in the conversation to swivel his head around. Seemed like the trio was still working on Javier’s leg, Charles trying to remove the bullet while Bill held Javier down in place.

“I’m gonna go grab Charles and we’ll get you out of here.” As he made to pull himself out of the cart, Dutch grabbed his calf again and he fell back into the seat.

“Don’t bother,” he begged.

“Dutch, we gotta get you back to the house. Or at least out of here.”

“I can’t move my legs, Arthur. Even if you got me moving, I’m not making it through the night.”

It wasn’t fair. The bank job was less than a week ago, he’d already lost Hosea and Lenny and Sean to violence, and now he was going to lose Dutch as well. Only this time he was watching it in real-time and there was nothing he could do. Pre-emptive and residual grief both seized Arthur’s chest and he couldn’t find his voice.

“Listen,” Dutch began, “I know I have no right after how I’ve treated you, but I have to ask a favor of you.”

“Anything,” Arthur responded. The words fell out of his mouth before he even knew what Dutch would ask, still that impressionable teenager eager to please his new mentor. He motioned for Arthur to come closer and he complied with that request as well.

“North of Blackwater, across the river, there is an abandoned native reservation. In the middle there is an old church that’s still standing. You have to go there, and soon.”

Arthur knew the place. It was where he’d spent one of the saddest nights of his life after seeing Albert in Blackwater. There was a sketch of it in his journal.

“Why?”

“That’s where the money is.” There was no need to clarify what he meant by “the money.”

“What?! It’s  _ there? _ Why didn’t we ever go back for it?”

“I don’t think you realize quite how much money is in there.” Dutch was starting to have to take a breath after every sentence. “Too much for one person to carry. And I didn’t want to send too many people. It would look too suspicious that close to the border. But now…”

“What’s the matter?” Dutch’s eyebrows drew together, not in pain, but concern.

“You’re not gonna like this.”

But Arthur already knew the answer.

“You told Micah,” he stated in disbelief. “You actually told Micah, didn’t you?”

“We are the only three people who know about that money, and I want you to get it before he does.” Arthur had to look away, focus on something, anything else. The admission made him livid with Dutch, but knew if he asked why he told Micah, he’d just get an answer that angered him even more. Wisely, or maybe because his strength was truly beginning to wane, Dutch remained silent.

Arthur forced air out of his nostrils in frustration and rubbed his temple before replying, “Yeah, I’ll do it.”

“I know you’re mad at me. You have every right to be. But I am sorry, Arthur. This isn’t how I want to leave things. Don’t let this be how you remember me.”

Arthur fought back a frown that threatened to take over his face, but he could still feel his throat tightening with emotion. “I won’t… I won’t always be mad at you. I still got plenty of good memories of you to outweigh the bad.”

“Tell me some.”

“Like what?” A low rumble came from Dutch’s chest, probably the closest thing to a chuckle he could manage at the moment.

“Tell me the story of you with the fish.”

“Not the damn fish…”

“Yes the damn fish!,” Dutch smiled. “Please?”

Arthur huffed and took off his hat to run a hand through his hair. He tried to dredge up the unflattering memory from his mind and was thankful for the temporary distraction from the situation laying at his feet.

“Well it was hot that day…”

* * *

They stayed in the back of the wagon for a while. Arthur traveled backwards and forwards through their shared history recalling all kinds of stories and the laughter helped keep the tears at bay. Dutch would occasionally provide a prompt or a segue into another story, but these became less frequent later in the conversation. After about an hour, Arthur noticed Dutch wasn’t chuckling anymore. He tried shaking the man awake with no luck. When he felt Dutch’s cold neck for a pulse, he found none.

Arthur exited out of the back of the wagon. Bill had Javier propped up against a large stone some fifty feet away and had presumably stifled the bleeding from the gunshot because Javier was still breathing, albeit labored. Charles circled around from the front of the wagon where the horses were and all eyes fell on Arthur.

He gently shook his head, “He’s gone.” The hitch in his voice was unmistakable and he hoped it didn’t come off as pathetic.

There was no reaction out of the other three men; they all knew it was coming, but the shock was still undeniable. The one man they had all pledged to follow, who had taken them in and protected them at their lowest points, was now gone.

Javier was the first to speak. “I’m sorry, Arthur.”

He shook his head, “I should’ve been there.”

“What, so you could’ve been caught with the rest of us? We’d be on a boat to Sisika by now if you came with us.” Javier tried propping himself back up into a better position and winced slightly as his leg shifted. “What you  _ should’ve _ done is shot Micah back at the house. And I should’ve let you. Sorry about that by the way.”

Arthur waved a hand dismissively, “Its fine. And Micah’ll get his, don’t you worry.”

Charles stepped forward and cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention. Somberly, he said, “There are two shovels under the driver’s bench,” letting the implication hang there and they all understood it. Seemed the Pinkertons were prepared for something like this. Wordlessly, Arthur walked to the front to get them, not even realizing he was falling back into his role as the gang's workhorse. Charles followed after and showed Arthur where he saw the shovels.

“You don’t have to do this, I can ask Bill,” he whispered.

Without looking at him, “I do have to do this.”

They chose a spot further away from the banks, near the tree line. Arthur focused entirely on the task at hand, refusing to dwell on any what-ifs or might-have-beens. Likewise, Charles made no small talk and Arthur was thankful for his friend’s quiet demeanor.

When they deemed the hole sufficiently deep there was the matter of getting Dutch down there. Arthur got back in the wagon and grabbed Dutch’s body by the arms, Charles got the legs, and they shimmied over awkwardly to the location. This whole scenario was a ramshackle affair and Arthur hated it; the man who had taken him in, and likely saved his young teenage life, seeing a potential no one else did, was going to find himself at the bottom of a wet hole in the woods. He deserved so much more, but this is what he got.

The four of them gathered at the exposed hole before filling it in.

“I feel like someone should say something,” Javier suggested.

When several seconds passed no one offered to go first a quiet chuckle broke out between them.

Javier shook his head, “Where’s Reverend when you finally need him?”

“Probably passed out in a ditch somewhere; he hit the bottle worse than you did, Bill,” Arthur teased.

“Shut up.”

“Well I do know one thing,” Charles began, “I would’ve never met Swanson if it weren’t for Dutch. Wouldn’t have met any of you. But I’m damned glad I did. I don’t know where I’d be right now if I didn’t.”

“I probably would’ve been caught and kicked back to Mexico where they woulda hanged me,” Javier mused.

Bill shrugged and took a few moments to clear his throat. “I probably would’ve gone on robbing people on my own until I finally bit off more than I could chew. Definitely would’ve never tried half the shit we’ve done on my own though.”

All eyes fell to Arthur. “What about you, Arthur?,” Charles asked. “You were pretty young when he first picked you up, weren’t you?”

He didn’t even know where to begin. “I’d be nothing without Dutch and Hosea. Probably would’ve been like my father and found a noose around my neck before I turned 18. I…” He wanted to say more, but there was so much to say that he didn’t know how to get it all out. The others knew. Instead he opted to clear his throat and hide his face under the brim of his hat, looking down at the man who, for all their recent quarrels and all his complications, and Dutch had many, had no doubt changed Arthur’s life. “Thank you, Dutch.”

“Thank you, Dutch,” the other three repeated. Arthur and Bill did the busy work of filling the hole back up in the darkness. When it was finished, Charles returned, leading the two horses that had pulled the wagon.

“Javier, are you good to ride?”

“Well I definitely don’t wanna walk.”

“I’m gonna take Javier back to the house and let everyone else know what happened. It’s probably not safe to stay there anymore if Micah sold us out. Bill, can you go back up and get the horses?”

Bill nodded as he took one of the reins from Charles. “Sure.”

“What about you, Arthur?”

“Think I’m just gonna… rest here for a while. Then head back to Valentine tomorrow.”

“Is that where you’ve been?”

“Yeah, I got… a friend who’s staying up that way, I’ve just been with him the past few days.”

Charles was likely putting two and two together in his head, but kept it to himself. “Alright. Maybe I’ll come up there and find you in a day or two.” Then he looked down at the fresh grave and the small pile of stones they hastily made to mark it. He briefly rested a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “We’ll come back here one day, make it nicer.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

Another quick pat on the back and he turned away, asking for Bill’s help to get Javier on the back of the stolen horse. Then they were off. Bill lingered for a few moments, pretending to tighten up the reins on the remaining horse.

“He’s no Brown Jack, but I think this horse’s strong enough to carry me,” he joked. The horse could handle him of course; even hiding under his trenchcoat Bill appeared noticeably thinner than Arthur remembered him being. Sure, he still had the frame and shoulders of a large man, but he had lost a considerable amount of weight over the past few weeks for some reason. “You said you’re staying here?”

“Just for a bit.” Bill studied him for a moment.

“Alright. Maybe I’ll catch you around some other time, Morgan.” Before he could mount the horse, Arthur stopped him.

“Bill.” Finally raising his head to look the other man in the eyes. “Why didn’t you shoot me that night? Back at the house?”

“I didn’t know what was going on,” he shrugged in response.

“Bullshit. You knew Dutch was hollerin’ at me and everyone else was shooting at  _ me _ . You had me dead to rights but you let me slip away.”

Bill shifted on his feet uncomfortably, trying in vain to hide behind the horse. “‘Cus I didn’t want to, alright? What’s it to you?”

“I just know you and I ain’t always seen eye-to-eye. I never thought I’d see you put me over Dutch is all. I ain’t mad, just confused. And thankful, I guess.”

Bill sniffed and scowled as he stared hard at the horse. “I ain’t well, Arthur.”

“What, in the head? Everyone knows-“

“That’s not what I-,” Bill began to bark back before a new coughing fit took over him. It was deeper and wetter-sounding than Arthur remembered it being during the stakeout they did before stealing the oil tank. All he could do was watch uncomfortably until the episode subsided.

Bill spat on the ground and continued without raising his head, “I was in Rhodes few weeks back. Had a bad fit and couldn’t breathe. Some feller took me to the doctor. He told me I have tuberculosis.”

“Jesus.”

“Reckon I got it from that Downes guy Strauss had me beat up; he looked like I do now.” It took Arthur a moment to place the name and why it sounded familiar.

“The one I was supposed to do but kept putting off,” Arthur stated. “Shit. I’m… I’m real sorry, Bill.”

The other man glared at him momentarily before looking away again. “Yeah, well, whatever. It’s too late now.”

“How much time you got?”

“I don’t know,” sounding exhausted now. It was late after all, and Arthur didn’t know when the boys had left the house in Lemoyne; it certainly wasn’t a short trip.

“Well now I really don’t get it. You’re sick and dying because of me,  _ and  _ you still let me go? You should be pissed at me.” Arthur was feeling better now that he’d taken his pistol back from Bill.

“Being pissed at you won’t cure me. I’m tired of being angry all the time, it doesn’t fix nothing.”

“That’s real mature of you.” Bill huffed, but didn’t contest it.

“Albert. That’s your friend in Valentine, isn’t it?” Arthur nodded. “Micah found out somehow and told Dutch. He asked me if I knew about it and I said it didn’t.”

“Why?”

“Look, men like me, or I guess I should say ‘men like  _ us _ ,’ we don’t get happy endings. We don’t get something that lasts. Least that’s what I thought before I saw you go running off every other day to see the same guy.”

“Well it’s not like-“

“Let me finish, dammit!” Bill took a few seconds to clear his throat again. “It just looks like you have something I never thought I could. Never thought anyone could. So just don’t waste what you have, alright?”

Arthur didn’t know what else to say besides, “Sure.”

Bill finally dragged himself up on the horse, which thankfully didn’t buckle under his weight, diminished as it was.

“You should head west,” Arthur suggested. “New Austin maybe. They say the dry air is better. For the lungs.”

Bill seemed to actually consider it. “Guess there’s nothing holding me back now, is there? I know Javier mentioned he wanted to head back that way.”

“At least get out of that damned swamp!” That got a small laugh out of Bill.

“Yeah, I will… Take care of yourself, Morgan.”

“You too, Bill.” With that, Bill took off north. Presumably the boys had hidden the horses someplace safe before starting the job. Leading four horses back to the house by himself would be hard, but Bill could probably manage it. Unless he left the stolen one behind. And now there’d be no reason to take The Count back...

He looked down at the fresh soil that was still at his feet. Arthur hadn’t really moved from this spot for several minutes now. It didn’t sit right with him, just leaving like this. Instead, he whistled Ivy over and laid out his bedroll on the ground next to the grave. Lying down on it, he realized how exhausted he was, but sleep would not come easily, not with his mind reeling with memories.

Arthur spent maybe another hour or so there on the ground, remembering more of their two decade’s worth of stories and conversations and moments they’d shared. Stories he didn’t get to retell with Dutch while he still had him that night. Occasionally he would mumble them aloud to himself as if Dutch could still hear him. It was hard, but it helped.

And while he was sad, he did not weep. This was not like Hosea’s passing; he wasn’t fighting with Hosea before he died. There were still some fresh emotional wounds Arthur had suffered from Dutch’s words and actions over the past few weeks. He knew these would heal in time and Arthur would eventually be able to mourn properly, but that night by the banks of the quiet river, a storm of conflicting feelings raged within him.

* * *

He rose with the sun like he usually did when sleeping rough, but hardly felt well-rested at all. Still, it wasn’t wise to stay around here, wherever he was, now that Pinkertons could continue their search in the daylight. He packed up the bedroll, opting to skip a quick meal and get moving. Before doing that however, he took a hard look around, trying to commit the scene to memory so he could find it again someday. He said one final goodbye to his friend, his leader, his adoptive father, and promised to come back one day before Arthur mounted Ivy and took off to the west.

* * *

It was late morning when he turned Ivy on to the main drag of Valentine. Penny, predictably, was still hitched in front of the hotel, but curiously it looked like Sadie’s horse was there as well. Maybe she just needed another day before making up her mind. It was a little too late for the plan now though. He could hear an argument taking place inside the hotel before he entered it.

“Ma’am,  _ please _ , you need a doctor.”

“Tell me where he is goddamit!” That was Sadie alright.

Arthur entered the front door. Sadie wheeled around, clutching her stomach which was red with blood again. But it wasn’t pain she was wearing on her face. It was fear.

“Arthur! I’m sorry, I couldn’t stop him!”

“Whoah, whoah, slow down. What happened?”

“I tried, but I reopened these damn stitches-“

“Sadie, you’re not making sense, calm down.”

“Micah kidnapped Albert!”

He could see Sadie’s mouth continued moving, but Arthur didn’t hear anything else after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two cliffhangers back-to-back, I'm awful, I know.
> 
> This final conversation with Dutch was extremely difficult to nail down and I scrapped it and started from scratch a few times. Him and Charles are still the two characters I have the most trouble writing dialogue for while keeping true to their characterization in the source material, but I hope it's coming off as engaging and entertaining if nothing else.
> 
> Also I know the past few chapters (really since the train job) have been bummers and a lot of sad shit has been happening, but I promise there is a light at the end of the tunnel, please stick with it. We're almost there!


	19. Half-man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albert's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the one and only chapter told from Albert's perspective. I tried to avoid it because I wanted to keep the narration consistent for this work, but there's just going to be so much happening that Arthur isn't around to see. Doing this saves you the trouble of reading (and saves me the trouble of writing) a mountain of explainer exposition later on. If the narration style seems a little different this chapter, that's intentional.
> 
> This chapter begins the morning after Dutch's death, but before Arthur returns to Valentine.

It was early in the morning. Or maybe late afternoon? Albert wasn’t sure, but the sun was low on the horizon in any case. The sky was painted in a spectrum of blues and golds and pinks. He had heard rumors that some scientists in England, or was it France?, that were close to perfecting color photography with some new chemicals. What he would give for one of those new cameras right now.

They were out in some area that looked like the land north of Strawberry. Tall evergreen trees lined both sides of the rocky trail they were on that had a gentle decline slope. Arthur was in front of him, riding Ivy at a relaxed pace and Albert followed close behind on Penny. Arthur looked back and found Albert’s eyes with that same gorgeous, warm smile that no man on earth had a right to have.

A gunshot. It came from somewhere in the woods. Arthur’s smile was replaced with fear as a hole opened in his neck. Albert screamed out to him but got no response. Arthur grasped at his throat and slouched to the side, falling off Ivy, not moving when he hit the ground. Albert jerked his head to the left to find the source of the gunshot, but all he found was the barrel of a gun pointed at his forehead by a man wearing a bandana. The man pulled the trigger and an impossibly loud bang ripped Albert out of the dream.

He shot up in the bed with a shout and immediately reached for his forehead, but found no injury. Panting and sweating, Albert tried to calm himself down. He’d had dreams about the man with the bandana before, but they’ve never ended like that. And Arthur was never in them. Remembering his lover’s presence in the dream, Albert instinctively looked to his left, but that half of the bed was empty.

His facilities and recollection came back to him. Albert was still in the hotel room in Valentine. It was dark, but there was just the faintest hint of light coming through the window. By his estimate the sun would be rising in about half an hour. Arthur had not come back. He knew that was a possibility. In fact, it was more likely than him coming back the same night, but the rationality of the situation didn’t make it any more comforting.

He laid back down in the bed, facing the ceiling. He knew full well that sleep would not come to him again but he still did not feel well-rested. 

After Arthur had left the previous morning Albert didn’t have much to do to keep himself entertained. He didn’t want to spend what money he had left at the General Store, he would get kicked out of the main saloon if he tried going back, getting drunk by himself didn’t seem like a good idea, and a local had laughed in his face when Albert asked if the town had a public library. He could have left town for a bit to practice with his new gun, but he felt anchored by his promise to Arthur to stay in Valentine, and the off-chance that Sadie returned a day later than she intended. Really the only thing he  _ did _ at all was ride Penny around the perimeter of the town a few times so she could stretch her legs.

As for this coming day, Albert didn’t know what to expect. Likely more of the same, just waiting around and being useless. He wished he could have gone along with Arthur without being a hindrance, but knew that was impossible. Albert was no gunslinger and certainly didn’t have an appetite for violence that seemed to be a prerequisite for surviving in this part of the country. Maybe if he were more clever he could have provided a distraction for Arthur. Or maybe if he were more charismatic he could’ve talked their way out of this situation with Arthur’s old gang.

It didn’t make any difference now, however. All he could do was wait.

* * *

Predictably, Albert was unable to fall back asleep after the nightmare, though he wasn’t sure he even wanted to risk facing the man in the bandana who now lived in his subconscious again. Instead he rested in the bed, trying to not think up horrible scenarios Arthur might have run into, failing at that, and then trying to focus on something else, only to repeat the cycle four or five times. It was about 8 AM when he finally got dressed for the day and made the bed.

Over breakfast in the room, he dug out his mostly-empty journal. He really wanted to get better at jogging down his thoughts so he’d have something from this summer to look back on years from now, but he always found the exercise awkward. Words came to him easily when it came to talking, too easy some might say, but it was another matter entirely to put them to paper. While thumbing over to the next available blank page, he came across the sketch Arthur had gifted him. It was all but permanently seared into Albert’s mind at this point from how much he looked at it and studied it in the time between the train robbery and their recent reunion. This drawing, crafted with such skill and care for the sole purpose of putting a smile on Albert’s face, was one of the strongest factors in convincing him to give Arthur a second chance. Surely a man who was capable of such an act of love couldn’t be all bad.

Inspired by the gift, Albert folded it up and tucked it safely back into place before humoring himself and trying something he’d never done before; a sketch. He attempted to draw the Hôtel la Licorne from memory, under the assumption that a building would be easier to put to paper than a person or an animal, and it was a place ingrained in Albert’s mind from being his de facto home for the better part of three months now. And surely his innate skills as a photographer would come into play somehow.

The end result was almost comically bad, and in retrospect he didn’t know why he expected anything different.

_ Perhaps I should ask Arthur to teach me to draw someday. _

The thought of his lover and where Arthur could be or what he was doing in that moment threatened to send Albert into a spiral of negative thoughts again. Instead, he tore out the sketch and crumpled it up before leaving the room.

He exited the hotel, and brushed and fed Penny all while extolling her with superlatives and hyperboles in an intentionally silly voice the mare seemed to enjoy. It was a habit he picked up early on, before they were ‘together’ when he noticed how Arthur could barely contain his laughter at Albert’s ridiculous antics. But he found himself continuing to do it even when Arthur wasn’t around, more for his own amusement. She really was a fantastic horse for the price Albert paid for her however; she was no show-horse that would turn heads, but he certainly could have done worse for himself.

He mounted her and set off at an easy pace, taking the same route around town as he did yesterday. On his third lap past the post office, Albert got the idea to finally write back and respond to his mother’s last letter. It had been waiting for him at the Hôtel la Licorne when he got back from his Blackwater sortie, and he had not quite been in the mood to reply in the following days. But now was as good a time as any he supposed. Returning to the hotel, he re-hitched Penny and found his last piece of blank stationery that was tucked into his journal and began writing.

* * *

_ 8/1/1899 _

_ Dearest mother, _

_ I must extend a thousand apologies for my tardiness in responding to your previous letter. Know that I am in good health and company, I merely have been bedeviled with tasks and invitations and activities. Certainly never a dull moment around here! _

_ As I mentioned in my previous letter, the gallery showing was a splendid success and provided a substantial amount of unexpected income. My finances are sound, and I ask that you don’t continue to worry yourself about them. On a related note, because of my newfound success as a photographer, I believe I will be extending my stay in Saint Denis. I know that I had originally planned to return to the northeast later this month, but I do believe that the changing of the seasons will provide me with yet more opportunities to capture the essence of the local fauna. _

_ Speaking of photographs, I regret to say that I have no spares readily available to include with this letter, but trust that I have been busy expanding my portfolio. I must also protest your previous accusation that the image of the wolves was staged! To insinuate that I used taxidermied animals is an attack on my very character. You wound me, mother! _

_ Finally, with regards to the friend I mentioned in my previous letter, Miss Linton, I will remind you that she is a recent widow. To suggest that I pursue her as a love interest is nothing short of predatory and I will not entertain the thought. I understand your desire for me to settle down and begin a family comes from a good place, but I’ll remind you that between Robert and James’ children the Mason family name is in no danger of discontinuing. Love, if it is meant for me, will present itself when it is time, and not a moment sooner. And when that happens, I promise you’ll be the first to know. _

_ Please extend my greetings and news to the rest of the family. _

_ Yours, _

_ Albert _

* * *

The letter was chock full of lies, because of course it was, his letters always were. But it’s exactly the sort of thing Rebecca Mason would expect. He chuckled to himself as he re-read it a fifth time; over the years they’d struck up a sort of unspoken competition to see who could use the most flowery and formal language, but in person they didn’t speak anything like this at all to each other. Maybe it was a way to pretend they were a family of higher class than they actually were, but they found fun in it all the same.

He wasn’t sure what spurred him to include the announcement that he would be staying west of the Lannahechee longer than he’d originally planned. It wasn’t something he’d discussed with Arthur, who would be the main reason Albert would decide to stay in this part of the country. He genuinely would like the opportunity to winter in the south and continue expanding his portfolio, but he was overstating how much money he made off of the gallery showing and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stretch out his savings more than two or three months. Ultimately he decided to leave that section in. 

While he was trying to decide if his rebuke about Mary was too strongly worded, a knock came at the door. The letter haphazardly tossed to the side, already forgotten, Albert shot up out of the chair and took a breath before opening the door.

It was Sadie.

“Oh. Hello, Mrs. Adler.”

She obviously picked up on his disappointment. “Hey, Albert. I, uh, take it you were expecting someone else?”

“I was, yes. Not that I’m not happy to see you though! Please, come in.”

She obliged and entered the room, seeing that Arthur was not here as Albert closed the door behind him. “Sorry I didn’t come back yesterday, I got caught up in something.”

“Trouble? Not that I don’t think you can handle yourself, of course.”

She smiled warmly at that. “No, no trouble at all. I found John.”

“Arthur’s brother? Really!”

“Yes, sir. I was hoping to tell him myself, but I’m guessing he’s out?”

Albert dropped his eyes to the floor momentarily before fortifying himself and looking back to Sadie. “He left. But he’ll be back. He promised me he would.”

“He’s good for his word. Hell, he could come back any minute.” She wandered over to the chair Albert had been seated in just a minute earlier and sat down. Suddenly looking guilty, she avoided Albert’s eyes and cracked her knuckles anxiously. “He went after Dutch, didn’t he?”

Albert nodded.

“Shit. I’m sorry, Albert. I didn’t hate your plan, really, I just didn’t want to rush into it. Then I ran into John and Abigail, and I can’t travel too fast what with these stitches-“

“It’s alright, Sadie,” Albert interrupted softly. She looked up at him with a thin smile, but her eyes betrayed her true feelings.

“He’ll be fine. Arthur was the best gunslinger in the gang, I just wish I could’ve gotten back sooner to catch him.”

“Well it’s out of our hands now, no use worrying about him just yet.”  _ Lord knows I’ve done enough of that already. _ He continued taking his own seat on the edge of the bed, “Tell me about John, I haven’t met him yet.”

Sadie’s body language seemed to ease with the change of topic. “Well let me back up. I don’t know if Arthur told you, but last time I saw you boys I was headed down to Flatneck Station to look for two of our friends that got out.”

“No, he hadn’t mentioned where you had gone, just that you were planning to come back yesterday.”

“Well it took me longer than I would’ve liked, but they were laying low after all. They were my friends, Tilly and Mary-Beth. They helped me get back on my feet when I first joined the gang.”

“And they also recently left the gang?”

Sadie nodded, “They’re just looking to head west for a while, wait for things to die down before figuring out what they wanna do next. They don’t have bounties on them, but they don’t wanna risk Pinkertons coming after ‘em for information.”

“Sounds kind of like your situation.” Sadie raised her eyebrows in concession.

“It is, but I’ve got my own business that’s keeping tied down here, that’s what’s different. First and foremost making sure Dutch doesn’t come after you boys or Mary Linton.”

He’d almost forgotten about Mary. Hopefully she was still staying hidden at Emerald Ranch. Albert had felt like he’d been sitting on his hands doing nothing this whole time, but at least he was aware of all the parts moving around him; Mary was completely in the dark for four days now.

“Anyways,” Sadie continued, “I spent a good chunk of the day with those two and we all said our goodbyes, who knows when I’ll see ‘em again. When I started back for Valentine my stitches started acting up and I had to take a break on some stretch of road. That’s when I saw John and Abigail and Jack pass by.”

“Abigail is his wife and Jack is his son?” There had been a whole cast of characters thrown at Albert over the past few days and he was having trouble remembering them all without having faces to put behind the names.

“Well they ain’t married, but Jack is his son, yes. I flagged him down and we got to talking. Turns out after Charles ditched him on the docks he hid in a trash wagon. Had to wait a whole day for the workers to carry him out to a field where they dumped him out with a bunch of garbage, and then he stayed hidden in it for another hour just to be safe.”

“That sounds ingenious.”

Sadie laughed, “Yeah, but only because it worked! Could you imagine doing all that only to get caught and shot dead in a heap of trash?”

“That would certainly be an unfortunate way to end a story, yes.”

“After that he ran up to Lagras in the swamps where Abigail and Jack were waiting for him with a wagon they stole from the gang; they had the whole thing planned out it seems. Course he still hadn’t managed to wash out the stink, so that’s how I know he was telling the truth.”

“Another smelly gunslinger? He really must be Arthur’s brother.” Sadie unsuccessfully tried fighting down a laugh.

“Now Mister Mason, that ain’t nice. He ain’t here to defend himself.”

With his own smirk on his face, “Then why are you smiling?”

“No reason at all… So I spent some more time with them before they left. They’re also heading west for a bit, but not by train. They made it sound like they weren’t gonna stick to any one place for too long.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to find them again eventually. If nothing else, Arthur will be glad to hear they’re alright.”

“He sure will. So then I tried again to come back here after that, but I ran into a pair of O’Driscolls, so I had to deal with them.”

Albert was pretty sure he understood what she meant by, “deal with them,” but he preferred to let the implication hang there, in ambiguity.

“Sun had set at that point,” she continued, “and I wasn’t feeling well so I slept rough again and only got back a few minutes ago. Again, I’m real sorry I didn’t get back sooner.”

“It’s quite alright. Who knows, maybe it’ll turn out to be a blessing in disguise.” She leveled a skeptical look at him.

“You know for someone with as much bad luck as you have, you’re quite the optimist.”

“It’s worked out for me so far,” he shrugged.

“I guess so. So you mind if I hang around and wait with you for Arthur to get back?”

“Not at all, be my guest! However I was about to head over to the post office to mail a letter if you would like to accompany me.” He stood up and stepped past Sadie to retrieve the letter that had fallen to the floor. He used the flat surface of the adjacent table to fold it smoothly, and noticed Sadie had tried to sneak a quick peek at the contents. He didn’t scold her however.

“Hell, why not? I’ll make sure you don’t get into any trouble.”

“I hardly think a trip to the post office will be all that exciting.”

After tucking the letter away in his vest pocket and locking the room, they exited the hotel and walked up the main avenue that bisected Valentine, trying their best to avoid the worst patches of mud that never seemed to dry up.

“You mentioned before that you had your own goals that were tying you down to this area? Family, I presume?”

Sadie didn’t respond for a few moments and Albert wondered if she’d heard him. When he was about to repeat himself, she interrupted, “Not family, no. Revenge.”

“Oh my. I’m sorry, I just assumed; Arthur introduced you as a ‘Mrs.’ so I thought…”  _ Quit while you’re ahead, Albert. _

“I was married, but… he was taken from me a few months back. And I will avenge him someday, but it ain’t time yet.”

“I understand,” Albert replied, knowing full well that he didn’t.

“But, sitting around with hate in my heart ain’t gonna pay the bills if you know what I mean.”

“I can’t imagine it would. What will you do in the meantime?”

“Dunno. It’s hard for women to get work out West and I don’t see myself settling down with a new man. I could turn to crime, probably be good at it too, but that don’t sit well with me either.”

“Perhaps you could look into hospitality? Maybe something in Saint Denis?”

“Nah. I was thinking of bounty hunting.”

“Oh.” Sadie smirked at his surprise, savoring it for a few moments before going on.

“What’s the matter? Don’t think I can handle it?,” she challenged.

“Not at all! It’s just that I can’t say that I know many bounty hunters so I have no idea what all of that entails.”

“Can’t be too hard, right? You find bad people and bring ‘em in to face justice. And if they don’t come quietly, well… you skip a few steps and save the hangman some trouble.”

“Sounds a bit morbid for my tastes. I’ll stick to tempting wild animals to eat me, thank you very much.”

Sadie laughed. “Hey, it’s a free country. I just think it’d be something I’d be good at.”

“You certainly have the confidence for it. Are you comfortable with the, ah… potentially deadly aspect?” She clenched her jaw before giving a serious expression to Albert on her right.

“I ain’t ever killed no one who didn’t deserve it. I don't know what it’s like where you’re from, but there are plenty of bad folk out here that have it coming.”

“Just seems to me like the sort of thing that would weigh on my conscience for the rest of my life. If you kill a killer, doesn’t the overall number of murderers in the world stay the same?”

They walked maybe fifteen feet in silence before Sadie asked, “What if I kill two killers?” Albert couldn’t think of a response before the next question came. “Or three?”

“I’m afraid my public school education didn’t cover this topic, but I’ll admit, I’m having trouble finding a flaw in your logic.”

As they approached the building, Sadie likely picked up on her companion’s uncomfortable demeanor. She patted him on the back and tried to assuage him, “Sorry, Albert, I don’t mean to keep bringing up heavy stuff. Why don’t you head on inside, I’ll wait out here.”

He was about to ask what she would do in the meantime, but he could see her attention was already zeroed in on the bounty board on the outside of the building.

_ How serendipitous. _

“Of course, I’ll be right out.”

Entering the structure, he realized he’d never actually been inside it, but it was nicer than he was expecting. One could almost ignore the ever-present stink of livestock that seemed to penetrate every other building in this town. He walked to the right and got in line behind a blond man who was leaning close on the clerk’s counter. The man shot Albert a vicious stare, and he returned what probably looked like a nervous and pathetic smile before immediately feigning interest at nothing in particular out the adjacent window. Out of the corner of his eye, Albert could tell this man was still staring at him though.

Thankfully, the mail clerk returned to the window and had to unlock and swing open the metal grate that separated him from the public to pass through a satchel to the blond man. “There you are, Mr. Bell.”

“You sure it’s all there? I don’t wanna have to come back here.” Even his voice made Albert uncomfortable.

“This is all Agent Milton left here, I promise.” Albert’s ear perked up at the word “agent,” but was determined not to react. This man in front of him was likely a bounty hunter, and it’s not like Arthur and his former gang mates were the only criminals out there that Pinkertons would be interested in.

The blond man left the counter without so much as a goodbye, already inspecting the contents of the satchel. The clerk looked grateful that the exchange was over and Albert couldn’t blame him. He waved Albert forward.

“Next.” Dutifully, Albert stepped up to the counter and the clerk recognized him from yesterday. “Oh hey there, looking for another train schedule?”

“Good morning. No, not today, I just need to mail a letter, but I don’t have an envelope or postage.”

“No problem, I can set you up,” the clerk replied as he leant back and began digging around some drawers under his own counter. “Where’s it going?”

“New York City.” The clerk gave a low whistle.

“This might be expensive, just warning you. Fill this out and I’ll check my shipping chart.” He passed Albert a blank envelope and a surprisingly nice pen to write the address on. He tucked the letter inside and wrote his mother’s name and address while the clerk stepped to the side, pouring through a book with several charts in it.

When he was finished, he passed the envelope back through the small opening in the gate and readied his money clip. The clerk returned and inspected the envelope.

“If it's just a letter and no package, it’s gonna be four dollars.” As Albert counted the money out, the clerk stopped him. “Hang on, you forgot to include a return address. What can I use?,” he asked as he took the pen, ready to write it himself.

“Albert Mason. And I guess… the Hôtel la Licorne in Saint Denis, Lemoyne.” The clerk nodded his head in acknowledgment without looking up.

“Fancy French place? Yeah, I know it.” When he finished writing, he took Albert’s money, licked the envelope closed and set it in a basket with dozens of other envelopes, “I’ll get this out on the next train.”

“Thank you so much.” Albert waved at the clerk behind the gate who waved back. He turned to his left to walk back to Sadie.

The blond man was merely ten feet away, leaning his back against the far wall, new satchel slung over his shoulder and watching him with a grin that made Albert want to jump out of his skin.

“Albert Mason, was it?” There was no feasible way for him to weasel his way out of this one; the man obviously heard the whole exchange with the postal clerk just now.

“Yes, that’s me. I’m sorry, do I know you?”

The man pushed off the wall and walked closer, but Albert really wished he wouldn’t.

“No, but I think you know my friend. Arthur Morgan?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t believe I know who that is.”

“Oh, you don’t gotta be coy with me, Al. Arthur and I go way back. We grew up in the gang together.”

Albert was willing his body and voice to stay as steady as possible in the face of this unexpected threat. He tried and failed to mentally run through the roster of gang members Arthur had mentioned, trying to determine who this man was and if he could trust him. “He’s not in the gang anymore.”

“Oh so you do know him?,” the man smirked, clearly proud of his small victory in the admission. “Well neither am I. Whole thing went to shit after the bank job. I wanted to catch up with him actually, is he around?”

“Arthur’s not here.”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know.” The man narrowed his eyes. Albert knew he wasn’t a good liar but tried changing the subject with, “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Ah, where are my manners? Micah Bell.” He put out a hand and despite his instincts screaming against it Albert reached out and shook it. Micah’s grip was unnecessarily tight.

_ A dozen men in Strawberry are dead because of you. _

Micah put his face even closer to Albert’s, not letting go of his hand. “I think you’re lying to me,” he whispered. “Come on, Al, you can trust me.”

Despite his better judgment, but more likely because he knew he couldn’t come up with anything more believable, Albert told the truth. “I don’t know where he is  _ right now _ , but he left for Annesburg last night.” He hated the small sense of satisfaction he got from the confusion on Micah’s face.

“That so? I must’ve just missed him.”

“What were  _ you _ doing there?,” Albert challenged. Micah paused to think of an answer.

“Saying goodbye to an old friend. So Arthur’s coming back here? Thought he didn’t like Valentine.”

“He’s coming back for me.”  _ Why did I say that? _ Micah’s fake smile came back and Albert instantly knew he gave the wrong answer.

“Perfect. Well I’ve got somewhere to be today, so you’re gonna come with me, and Arthur will come find the both of us.”

Albert knew if he left with this man he was as good as dead.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” He hoped he was projecting confidence, because he certainly didn’t feel confident in the moment. But for good measure he made a show of staring down Micah and resting his hand on the Volcanic at his side.

Micah absolutely noticed and looked down, chuckled, then looked back up to Albert. “You sure you wanna play that game?” He gestured with his head below them. Albert dared to look down and saw Micah aiming a gun with his left hand at Albert’s stomach. He never even noticed Micah ready the weapon, how long had it been there? He cursed himself for thinking he could stand up to a mass murderer.

Looking around he realized they were in a slow part of the station. The closest person was a man slumped over asleep on a bench, probably waiting for a train. The mail clerk also couldn’t see them through his window at this angle. Sadie was likely still engrossed with the bounty board outside. He was alone.

“I wasn’t making a suggestion,” Micah said. He jabbed Albert in the stomach with the barrel, who flinched more than he was proud of. “Walk.”

Heart beating in his chest and feeling like it would explode, Albert complied and made for the doorway he came in from, the entrance opposite the train tracks. Micah followed close behind and he made sure the barrel of the revolver never left the small of Albert’s back.

“Here, let me lighten your load.” Albert felt the Volcanic removed from his holster, but resisted the urge to reach for it himself. Micah huffed with surprise behind him. “I recognize this piece. Arthur really gave you his favorite gun?”

“It’s complicated.” Micah didn’t seem to care enough to press the issue.

As they exited, Albert looked to his left and fortunately caught Sadie’s attention as she tore her eyes away from the board. Whatever she was about to say, her words were cut short by the determined look on her face and she swung her repeater around and readied it. Albert was jerked back as an arm snaked around his neck and the revolver was pressed against the left side of his head in an instant.

“Mrs. Adler,” Micah purred, barely an inch away from Albert’s ear.

“ _ Micah, _ ” she replied with more distaste than Albert knew she was capable of showing.

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same.” Albert dared to scan around. A man maybe thirty or forty feet away was walking towards the building, but stopped and quickly retraced his steps at the sight of the standoff. Hopefully he was going to get the sheriff.

“Oh I’m just taking my new friend here for a ride. I don’t think it would interest you much.”

“I think I’m very interested in why you’ve got a gun to Albert’s head.”

“Oh so you know him too?” Feigning a pained voice, “How come you guys never invite  _ me _ to meet new people?”

“‘Cus you’re a damned coward! You didn’t come with us back into the city, we could’ve used you! Now Hosea’s dead!”

The arm Micah had wrapped around Albert’s neck got tighter and he realized Micah was beginning to step backwards, dragging Albert along with him. He had no choice but to awkwardly take his own retreat, but Sadie was stepping forward at the same speed, keeping their distance constant.

“Yes, and we’re all very sorry about it, but maybe if he was a better crook he wouldn’t have got caught in the first place.”

“You’re a bastard, Micah.”

“Yeah, I know. Listen, I’d love to chat, but we got somewhere to be. Why don’t you go run off to… Oh that’s right, you don’t got no one anymore, do you?” Micah certainly had a talent for weaponizing sarcasm and it seemed to be working; if Sadie didn’t know Albert he was convinced that she would’ve shot through him just to hit Micah judging by the scowl her face contorted into.

“You son of a  _ bitch! _ ”

Sadie fired a shot that whizzed past both Albert and Micah’s heads, but missed. Because they all had shifted from their starting positions, she was able to duck to her right through the doors into the post office immediately afterwards. Micah aimed both guns, his own in his left and Albert’s Volcanic in his right, and began firing over Albert’s shoulders. He couldn’t get a good angle on Sadie however. Albert took what was likely his last chance and ducked down, around past Micah’s back and around the corner of the building.

“Get back here!,” was all Micah could get out before the windows of the post office were destroyed with bullets.

Albert fled to the adjacent water tower. He came right up to a black horse with a white face that was hitched to it. It didn’t look like there was a train pulling through the station and there weren’t many places to hide out here without going back towards the building, which was the last thing he wanted to do.

After another volley of gunfire he heard Sadie scream in pain inside the post office.

He cursed his cowardice and ineptitude and immediately grabbed the horse’s reins, intending to steal it. Instantly the animal reared and panicked, not recognizing him and likely startled by all the loud noises. Albert tried desperately to calm the creature down, no small feat considering his own mental state. Instead, it seemed he only succeeded in further agitating it.

“Good, that’s right where I want you.”

Albert spun his head around to see Micah approaching, looking unscathed, almost relaxed. The blond man flipped the Volcanic around in his hand to hold it by the barrel end.

“Sir, really, I’m certain that we could-”

Micah smashed the butt of the pistol into Albert’s skull.

* * *

......

* * *

He was moving fast, that was the first thing that Albert could piece together. A blur of browns and greens were rushing past his eyes when he finally opened them. At first he thought he was falling, or having a spell of vertigo, but it was soon evident that he was lying down on his stomach. Trying to right himself up yielded another discovery: his hands and feet were tied behind him. A sudden whip of hair in his face informed him that he was on a horse.

He dared to look to his left. Micah was mounted on this same horse, but hadn’t noticed he was awake yet, too focused on the road. Trying to get his bearings, Albert unfortunately couldn’t place where they were, but it was still daytime. He debated trying to shove or tackle Micah off the horse, but assuming he was even able to do so, then what? Ride this animal side-saddle while holding the reins behind his back and hope Micah didn’t shoot at him? The horse already reared and distrusted him the first time he tried to steal it. It was a horrible plan, but he had to think of something soon; who knew how close they were to their final destination or what would happen to Albert once they got there.

Alerting Micah that he was now awake also seemed like a bad idea, and would likely only earn him another blow to the skull. Looking down at the ground, Micah’s right spur was also uncomfortably close to Albert’s face; it wouldn’t have taken much effort at all for Micah to kick back and disfigure him.

_ I could just roll off. _

Albert’s head seemed to be just full of bad ideas today, but this one seemed the least bad. Observing the ground rushing past him again, he didn’t like the speed they were moving at, it was a faster riding speed than he’d ever been comfortable pushing Penny to reach. There was also the matter of how high up he was, this was no small horse. Finally, this did not seem to be a well-traveled or maintained path judging by how rocky it was. And on top of all of that, what would he even do once he-

Some deep-rooted survival instinct forced Albert to roll off the horse before his mind over-thought itself to death.

He hit the ground with a slam and continued rolling over for a few feet before coming to a stop. Had the air not been completely knocked out of his lungs, he’s certain he would’ve shouted, lord knows he wanted to what with all the pain he was in. Rolling onto his back and forcing himself to sit upright in the middle of the road, he could see a fork maybe thirty feet away from him. Micah has taken the right path and was still barreling away, maybe a hundred feet away at this point.

He had to make the most of this chance. Albert scrunched up and rocked onto his feet and was able to stand. His feet were still bound however, so he was forced to awkwardly hop over out of the road to get into some tree cover. Doing that, it was just a matter of getting the ropes off. Fortunately he left the hotel this morning wearing his holster that Arthur had given him, which meant at his right side…

The knife was no longer in his holster.

_ Well that’s a problem. _

Albert’s mind did what it did best and began running through as many worst-case scenarios as it could generate. What if he never got the ropes off and starved to death, lost in the woods? What if he came across a pack of wolves or a hungry bear while hogtied like this? What if Micah came back? What if somehow Albert managed to get back to the hotel, but Arthur went looking after him and Micah killed him?

The sound of an approaching wagon snapped Albert out of his fugue state. He hobbled over to a large tree and leaned against it to peer at the noise. Coming towards him from the left leg of the fork, in the opposite direction Micah had continued, a small wagon drawn by two horses with a man and a woman sitting on the bench was traveling. Perhaps Albert could persuade them to help? It certainly looked like they had room for one more passenger in their wagon. He hopped over back into the road and got their attention.

“Hello! Excuse me!”

The man instantly reached for a gun at his side, but the woman stayed his hand. They quietly bickered for a moment or two before the horses slowed to a halt maybe ten feet from Albert.

“Terribly sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you’d be able to help me out. You see, I was kidnapped earlier today by an outlaw, but I managed to escape. Unfortunately I am unable to break out of these ropes,” he made a show of rotating in place, careful not to lose his balance, to prove his hands and feet were bound, “and I very much would appreciate any help.”

The man was staring at Albert with a strange expression that he couldn’t identify. Was it fear? Pity? The woman on the wagon seemed more confused than anything else, but was deferring to her partner.

Neither of them had spoken a word to him yet, so Albert attempted to assuage their concerns. “I- ...I know how strange this must look, but I assure you, this is not a trap.”

_ Why did I say that? Now they’re going to think this is a trap. _

Finally the man called out to Albert. “Who kidnapped you?”

“An outlaw named Micah. A terrible man who was responsible for that massacre at Strawberry a few months back.” The man’s face changed again, but Albert was still unable to place the emotion, though he assumed it was nothing good. Desperate not to lose these people, he pleaded his case again with, “Please, if you won’t give me a ride, at least cut me out of these ropes and I’ll be on my way!”

The three of them all heard another horse fast approaching. Albert looked down the right leg of the fork and saw Micah barreling towards them; he’d be on them in less than a minute.

The woman drew her eyebrows together in concern and grabbed her companion’s arm. “Jim…”

The man shook his head and whipped the horses into motion. “I’m real sorry sir, but we can’t help you.”

“No! Please!” He had to throw himself to the side to avoid the horses, and losing his balance, Albert toppled to the ground again. As the cart traveled on, he could see a small boy was hiding in the back of their wagon. The man named Jim turned around and pushed the boy’s head back down behind some crates and gave Albert a concerned stare before continuing on their way.

Micah arrived shortly after, and Albert didn’t even bother to try escaping again, it would only look pathetic and would end up with him back on the horse anyway. Instead he just laid on his back on the ground, awaiting his fate with as much dignity he could salvage. The blond man dismounted and sauntered over to stare down at him pitifully.

“What’s the matter? Your new friends wouldn’t help you out?,” he chuckled.

Albert said nothing. He didn’t want to give the man any satisfaction. Micah squat down to put his face near Albert’s.

“And here I thought we were gettin’ along. You that repulsed by me, Al?”

Still he said nothing. Micah’s grin fell into a scowl.

“Not as repulsed as I am of you. Come here, you  _ half-man. _ ”

The disgust in Micah’s voice was palpable as he seized Albert of the ground and slung him over a shoulder. The slur was nothing new to Albert, but he hated it all the same and wondered how Micah knew. Arthur said that he was using Mary as an excuse to come to Saint Denis all the time, so it wasn’t like the nature of Arthur and Albert’s relationship was common knowledge.

Micah tossed Albert indifferently onto the rump of the horse and mounted the saddle again. “I don’t wanna have to waste a bullet on you, not yet anyway, but if you try anything funny again I just might,” he warned.

Albert’s mind fully gave up on plotting escapes and instead turned to focus on all the horrible scenarios that could possibly play out for the rest of the day.

* * *

By his best guess it was early afternoon when Micah had slowed the black horse down to a trot. The summer sun was sweltering and Albert wished he still had his hat. Then, thinking harder, he wished he hadn’t gone to the post office at all today if by some cosmic miracle he could be granted a wish in that moment. But he didn’t magically travel back in time, so it was ultimately a moot point.

He strained his neck to pick his head up and get a better view of their surroundings. They were coming up on an abandoned outpost that seemed to be their destination. A wrecked wooden fence surrounded a site that looked like it was a small native settlement or something a long time ago. Albert remembered passing this place during his carriage ride from Riggs Station to Blackwater, but he was too busy ruminating on a separate near-death experience the last time he came through this way. He’d certainly had a lot of them since leaving New York.

_ “Never a dull moment around here,” _ he mentally recalled the line he wrote in his mother’s letter this morning.

Micah hitched his horse to an old post and manhandled Albert off the animal, carrying him to a pole in the middle of the settlement. He tossed Albert unceremoniously to the ground and began tying him to the fixture.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any water, would you?,” Albert asked. Micah behind him paused for just a moment before continuing to work on the new knots.

“You’re in a cheeky mood all of a sudden.”

“What have I got to lose? You’re going to kill me anyway.”

Satisfied with whatever he did at the back of the post, Micah circled around and squat down to get to Albert’s eye level again. “You don’t know that. Hell, the sun and the vultures might do you in first.”

“Lucky me. Why are we here anyway?”

Micah jerked a thumb over his shoulder to the abandoned church behind him. “I need to look for something a friend of mine hid in there. Don’t know how long that’ll take, but once I find it I’m gonna wait around for our dear friend Arthur to find us.”

“If you untie me, I can help you look for it.” Micah frowned again.

“Don’t push your luck.” He stood up and started walking towards the building. “If you see him coming, be sure to give me a holler.”

Over the next hour or so Albert could hear Micah turning over every stone and plank of wood inside the building audibly frustrated. He didn’t know what could be hidden in there that was so important, but he didn’t care to guess. Instead he was just trying his best to stay awake and conscious under the merciless sun that was beginning to burn his face. His eyes were heavy and his body was fatigued from traveling rough and dehydration. He only had one meal today and he wasn’t even sure how long ago that was.

It would have been easy to slip into sleep or something like it were it not for the small rock that landed in his lap. Confused, Albert tried following the direction he thought it came from and it took every ounce of willpower to not shout at the sight.

A man was crouched behind a ruined teepee maybe fifteen feet away from him, out of Micah’s line of sight. He was holding a finger up in front of his face, signaling Albert to stay quiet. It was the man with the bandana from the train.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a side mission in Chapter Three where you help Bill and Tilly rob a stagecoach. The two of them bicker the whole time and Tilly ends up calling Bill a "useless half-man," and he gets very flustered at that, which I always interpreted as a dig at him being closeted but everyone kind of knowing anyway. I chose to re-use it as an insult in that context here.
> 
> Also, of course Albert is a guncle.
> 
> There might be a delay on the next chapter's update, I'm super busy this week and it's in a very rough draft state I wouldn't want to post it in. I know most fics go weeks or months without updates, but I'd like to keep to a tighter schedule, especially because we're close to the end.


	20. "Don't you worry about me"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur confronts Micah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Arthur's perspective for this one and the rest of the work. Picks up immediately where Chapter 18 left off in Valentine.

He should have known better. He heard the Pinkerton agent say it last night. “Half up front, the rest to be collected later.” He knew the money was in Valentine. He knew Micah would be coming here. He knew Albert was in Valentine. He knew Micah was looking for Albert. Instead he was careless, let his guard down, when he should have been-

Sadie slapped him hard across the face.

“Arthur! Get a grip and go after him!”

“Ma’am please, you’re bleeding all over my floor,” the hotel clerk pleaded. Arthur recognized him as the man who bristled at him the first time he was here, when Albert had rented a room here on their way back from their trip out of Strawberry. The clerk likely recognized him too, but was more concerned about getting this injured woman out of his establishment than chastising Arthur again.

Arthur ran a hand over the fresh skin, still stinging from the slap, and guided Sadie out the front door with the other, “Come on, let’s get you to a doctor. Tell me what happened.” She wasn’t limping, but her walking was still labored as she nursed her reopened wound.

“I got back into town this morning. Came to see you but Albert said you already left, so I was waiting with him for you to come back. He wanted to mail a letter though, so we went over to the post office. He went in, but I stayed outside looking at the bounty board.”

_ Micah didn’t even have to go looking, Albert walked right into his arms. _

Arthur put up an arm and halted a farmhand approaching on horseback as he helped Sadie cross the muddy main road.

“Lemme guess, Micah was inside?”

“They both came walking out and he put a gun to Albert’s head. I tried to stop him, but I didn’t wanna shoot your man by accident. Tried shooting the gun out of Micah’s hand, but missed. Ducked inside the station and we were shooting at each other through the window.” She winced as they stepped up to the doctor’s office, but continued. “I had him on the run, but when I tried jumping through the window, I pulled at one of these stitches and started bleeding all over again. That’s when he got away.”

Arthur opened the door with a commotion. “Can we get a doctor here?!”

The attendant at the front immediately assessed the situation and went back to fetch the doctor from a back office, who emerged soon after.

“Miss, come right this way,” he said, holding a door open to a private room. Sadie didn’t move however. She looked to Arthur instead.

“You gotta go after ‘em, but I have no clue where they went. I’d ride with you if I could, but-”

“It’s fine, Sadie,” he calmly interrupted. “If you weren’t there, I wouldn’t have no clue what happened. But I know where they’re going.”

“How do you know?”

“Miss?,” the doctor urged.

“Yeah, I’m coming,” Sadie groaned. She held her stomach as she hobbled over, but before she crossed the threshold she directed back at Arthur, “You better find Albert, I’m starting to like him. And kill that bastard Micah while you’re at it.” The doctor had a look on his face like he knew this was going to be a particularly feisty patient. When he closed the door behind him, the attendant at the front counter had his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Your… wife, I assume?” Arthur chuckled at that as he turned out the door.

“God, could you imagine?”

* * *

Ivy was upset and not afraid to show it. The animal underneath Arthur thrashed her head and whined in protest at each kick of the spurs, but he would not risk slowing down. Instead he muttered pleas and platitudes to her and promises of as many sugar cubes as she wanted once this was all over. The past twenty four hours had been rough on her, riding all the way out to Annesburg then back to Valentine and now racing west at a breakneck pace in the sweltering summer sun. She trusted Arthur, at least as much as an animal can trust a human, but everyone had their limits and he wondered if this would be the day she finally bucked him off and ran away. If that happened, he’d just run the rest of the way on foot.

Despite hiding it from Sadie, or at least attempting to, a sense of dread had seized Arthur’s mind. He believed Sadie’s retelling, but he still took a few minutes to inspect the post office himself before leaving Valentine. All he found was some broken glass around a window, two of the sheriff’s deputies trying to wave him off, and a straw boater hat and Arthur’s old knife left on the ground by the water tower. He should have come back to Valentine the previous night. Instead he was selfish, choosing to stay at Dutch’s side and mourn through the night, and now Albert was paying the price for it.

* * *

The abandoned reservation or outpost or prison or whatever it was looked the same as it did last time Arthur was here. The only noticeable difference was the black horse with the white face marking hitched outside the main building. Baylock, Micah’s steed, was left out in the open, both confirmation of Arthur’s guess and an unspoken dare to come after Micah. Arthur considered shooting the animal from a distance to prevent his escape, but soon pushed the cruel idea from his mind. Possibly the only redeeming quality of the man was how well he treated his horse, and that line of action would only threaten to put Albert at risk of retaliation.

Assuming Albert was even still alive.

_ Of course he’s still alive. He  _ has _ to be. _

Making sure Ivy was hitched under some shade a fair distance away from the site and the nearby road, Arthur thanked her once more before making his way up the hill. He passed through a destroyed part of the fence and took a position near the dilapidated remains of a teepee on a slight hill raised above the main building some thirty feet away from the front door. Straining to listen, he could just barely make out sounds of someone inside the building moving things around. Mostly likely Micah, unless he was just hiding inside and instructing Albert to search for him at gunpoint. Or maybe Albert was inside, bound and gagged, and Micah would shoot him at the first sign of being threatened. There were too many unknowns and Arthur didn’t feel comfortable taking advantage of this element of surprise he was currently inhabiting.

The sun was so relentless today he could feel its rays penetrating through his clothes and his hat was little comfort against the brightness of his surroundings. He was tired, thirsty, and barely had time to eat anything more than a few stale crackers on the way over, his last real meal being the spoiled fish from yesterday. This was to say nothing of his mental state; still in shock over Dutch’s death and panicked at what Albert’s current status was. Arthur was in no condition to start a fight, but he had to try, had to do  _ something _ before Micah got away again.

After making sure his Volcanic was fully loaded, he pointed it towards the sky and pulled the trigger.

“Micah! Come out here you rat bastard!”

He reset his aim towards the main entrance of the building and waited.

First the gun appeared, pointing out of the door frame, then his arm, then the rest of Micah. He stayed at the threshold however, opting not to fully leave the safety of the building. His eyes locked onto Arthur’s over the distance between them. Thankfully he spared Arthur the sight of that fake smile he loved to deploy so often.

“Hello, old friend. I’ve missed you and your piss-poor attitude,” Micah lied.

“You don’t seem too happy. What’s the matter? Ain’t you found that money yet?”

Micah’s scowl intensified. “The hell are you talking about?”

“The  _ Blackwater _ money. The money Dutch hid in there.” Micah’s nose twitched involuntarily.

“He said he didn’t tell you.”

“He told me last night. After you shot him in the back.” 

“Huh. So you were out there, weren’t you? I heard a rumor from a  _ good friend _ of yours that’s where you were.” Micah’s characteristic smile returned to his face as he knew the comment would get under Arthur’s skin. Arthur merely tightened his grip on his Volcanic and had to stop himself from shooting Micah right there.

“Where’s Al?,” he barked. Micah briefly swept the area with his eyes before responding.

“He’s near. Oh, he’s real near to here. But you’ll never find him without my help. Why don’t you throw that gun aside and we’ll have a chat, you and I?”

“How do I know that chat doesn’t end with a bullet in my back?”

Laughing, “Because your bounty is worth more with you alive than dead! I may be a bastard, but you can trust me to be a  _ greedy _ bastard.”

Rage flashed within Arthur’s chest. “Ten thousand dollars ain’t enough?!”

“Course not! That’s why I’m here sweatin’ my ass off looking for this chest!”

“I’m not letting you get that money.”

“Oh yeah?” Micah took a step back, retreating into the building. “Come and stop me.” When he was completely ensconced inside the structure, Arthur couldn’t see him at all. He tried remembering what the interior had looked like in his memory, but he was too distraught and distracted last time he was here to pay much attention to it.

It was a trap, obviously. And it would be foolish to follow after Micah on his terms. He could try waiting him out, but Arthur was already running on barely a few hours of sleep and didn’t want to risk Micah slipping out under cover of night, or worse, falling asleep from sheer exhaustion and letting Micah capture him. And the longer he took to decide, the longer Albert was strung up wherever he was at the moment. And if he was hurt, if Micah had laid a hand on him…

Anger clouded his judgment and Arthur approached the building. 

Careful to take light footsteps and straining his hearing for any hints as to where Micah was hiding, Arthur took cover at the left side of the doorway and peered into the building. His eyes needed several seconds to adjust to the sudden difference in light level. After blinking hard a few times, all he could make out were all of the ruined wooden pews, a table all the way at the back of the single room by the back entrance, and some floor boards that had been pulled up. There were only so many hiding places in a place this small.

Arthur raised his Volcanic and led through the door frame with his arm extended in front of him. But before the rest of his body could pass the threshold, two hands grabbed his forearm from just to the left of the frame where Micah was hiding. He directed Arthur’s aim skyward and on reflex Arthur fired off several rounds in the struggle to regain control. When the gun was spent, he released his grip on it and punched Micah in the face with his left hand, buying him just a second of time to react.

His right hand flew down and removed his sawn-off from his off-hand holster, but again, Micah was ready for this. He lunged and grabbed Arthur’s wrist, this time trying to direct the weapon at their feet. Arthur grabbed Micah’s throat with his left hand and dug in the thumb in an attempt to choke him. Micah responded by forcing Arthur to squeeze the trigger twice, effectively destroying the floorboards next to the entrance where Micah was hiding just moments ago.

Arthur brought up a swift knee to the stomach causing the other man to keel over and back up, but Micah used the momentum to reach down and remove Arthur’s knife from its sheath before he could. An upwards slash caught the inside of Arthur’s left forearm and with a yell he had to pivot further into the building to avoid further swipes. While back-pedaling down the main aisle between the pews, he slung his double-barreled shotgun from around his shoulder. He aimed down his sights, with a clear shot at Micah’s head barely four feet away, but he lost his footing as he blindly dropped his right foot into one of the holes in the floorboards Micah had pried up. The shot went wild, damaging some of the rafters before he fell flat on his back, foot trapped in the hole in the floor.

With the wind temporarily knocked out of him and now panicking, he tried to line up the second shot, but Micah kicked the end of the barrel away and again the shot was off-target, this time obliterating a nearby pew. Now standing over him, Micah chuckled and kicked Arthur in the side, hard.

“What is the point of all these guns if you can’t even use ‘em?”

“God damn you, Micah!,” was all Arthur got out before he was greeted with a stomp on the chest. Micah deliberately dragged his spurs across Arthur’s front, tearing through his vest, shirt and skin.

“Well this has been fun and all, but now I think keeping you alive is more trouble than it’s worth, cowpoke.” He finally removed one of his own revolvers that a dozen men in Strawberry had died over. Micah had bested Arthur without even firing a shot, and now he was going to die here.

In a desperate attempt, Arthur tried, “Ain’t I worth more alive?”

“Oh, I think I’ll be plenty comfortable once I find this chest.” He leveled his revolver at Arthur’s face looking up at him from the floor. “Don’t you worry about me.”

_ Click _

Nothing.

_ Click _

Again, nothing.

Arthur couldn’t have fought back the chuckle even if he wanted to. “Well this is embarrassing,” he quipped. That earned him two feet and Micah’s full weight pressing down on his forearms, pinning them in place. He shouted as the fresh cut on his left arm flared in pain.

“Ran into our friend Mrs. Adler today. Guess I forgot to reload after putting a few shots in her.”

Micah opened the weapon, letting the spent casings fall on Arthur’s face as a final show of disrespect as he got to reloading new bullets into it.

_ One _

“You know…”

_ Two _

“I want…”

_ Three _

“You…”

_ Four _

“To know something…”

_ Five _

_ Six _

Micah spun the gun’s cylinder and snapped it into place with the flick of a wrist.

“I never liked you.”

_ BANG _

Arthur flinched and held his breath, his whole body still and tensed as if the slightest movement would trigger his instant death. But he was still here, still seeing and hearing things, and still feeling pain from his arms getting crushed under Micah’s boots.

_ Did Micah miss? _

The man standing over him grunted and held his free hand up to his sternum, then pulled it away to look at it, breathing heavily through his nose the whole time. He began chuckling and looked up, towards the back of the building.

“You shot me.” He almost sounded amused. He bent his right elbow to bring his aim up and away from Arthur’s face. “You shot me pretty-“

_ BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG _

The revolver clattered to the floor next to Arthur’s head. Micah lingered, dropped to his knees, then fell face-forward onto the floor.

“Shut up, Micah.”

It was damned good to hear John's voice again.

The sound of heavy, familiar footsteps took their time making their way down the center aisle. Arthur looked “up” and saw his brother upside-down who squatted over Micah’s body to look at him.

“You still alive?”

“Thanks to you.” John grinned.

“I can get used to hearing that.” He circled around to be at Arthur’s feet and offered a hand to pull him up. When they were both standing, he looked Arthur over. “You look like shit.”

There was an unmistakable stench of utter  _ filth _ wafting off of John, so Arthur responded with, “Yeah, well you  _ smell _ like shit.”

“Coming from you, that's just about the meanest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“Shut up.”

Odor notwithstanding, Arthur pulled his brother in for a tight embrace, relishing in at least one good thing happening today. Neither of them spoke for a while.

“No one knew where you were. I thought maybe…”

“It’s been a strange week for me. But I’m fine. Abigail and Jack too, we all got out. Sorry I never got the chance to tell you.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard in a while.”

“But you mind telling me why you two were trying to kill each other in an old building in the middle of nowhere?”

Arthur released and took a step back as lucidity returned to him. “He kidnapped Al, but wouldn’t tell me where he was. I have to find him.” He was already debating in his mind whether to turn around to run back to Ivy or look around this settlement when John grabbed his shoulder and brought him back to reality.

“Albert? He’s outside,” jerking a thumb over his shoulder towards the back entrance of the building.

“How do you know?”

“‘Cus I’m the one who freed him while Micah was busy tearing this place apart! He’s up by the trees hiding with Old Boy. He told me you might be coming by and I came back when I heard gunshots.”

_ He’s safe. _

Arthur’s voice nearly cracked when he said, “John, you’re a saint.” He quickly rolled his eyes in response though.

“Doesn’t answer my question though, what’s so special about this place?”

“The money’s here.” Judging by the immediate recognition in John’s eyes, he didn’t feel the need to clarify.

Lowly, “How do you know?”

“Dutch told me, last night.” John drew his eyebrows together in confusion.

“I knew he was keeping it a secret from everyone, what made him change his mind?”

Arthur sighed, reluctant, but John was going to find out eventually anyway. “He was dying. He died last night.” Seeing John was at a loss for words, he continued, “Micah shot him in the back during a train job. He sold Dutch out to the Pinkertons.”

John looked down at Micah’s body, seemingly struggling to process all this new information. “Wha-... What the hell did I miss?”

“Look, I promise to fill you in. But I gotta...”

Understanding, John waved him off and began surveying the inside of the building, or what was left of it. “Yeah, of course. Just watch out, he’s a little jittery right now.”

Arthur was already out the back door.

* * *

Standing at the hill crest with his back to the settlement, Arthur discovered that he had a new limp as a result of plunging his right foot through the floorboards. Nevertheless, he soldiered on, holding onto the cut on his left arm in an effort to stem the bleeding. He went straight towards the tree line past the road. Once in the trees proper, he found Old Boy easily enough, lazily grazing on some underbrush and blissfully ignorant of Arthur’s current state, but the horse appeared to be alone.

As he approached the animal he heard the familiar click of metal come from a tree behind him.

“Don’t move,” a shaky voice demanded.

Arthur really wished John had warned him that he gave Albert a gun.

He raised his hands and carefully turned around.

“Arthur!”

“Please don’t shoot me again.”

The gun clattered to the ground as Albert rushed forward into Arthur’s accepting arms. He buried his face into Arthur’s neck and began softly sobbing.

“I got you. I got you,” Arthur reassured. Whether it was more for Albert or himself, he couldn’t say. He was getting blood all over the back of Albert’s clothes, but clothes could be replaced. What held in his arms was far more important than a few grisly stains.

“I am so sorry.”

“For what?”

“I promised you I’d be in Valentine when you came back.”

Arthur pulled back to look Albert in the eyes. “Al, you got  _ kidnapped _ and  _ that’s _ what you’re worried about?”

A weak smile worked its way into his face at the absurdity of the question. “I don’t like breaking promises.”

“You know, I think I can let this one slide.”

Getting a better look at Albert, he could see a nasty bump on his head that had already scabbed up. His face and neck were sunburned, his clothes dusty and disheveled, and there were rope burns around his wrists. A far cry from how the gentleman usually presented himself, though he seemed to be more fixated on Arthur’s equally unkempt appearance at the moment.

“My god, what happened to your arm?,” Albert worriedly asked as he took it in his hands to inspect.

“Micah cut me up with my own damn knife.” At the mention of the name, Albert swiveled his head to look behind him, back towards the settlement.

“Should we be leaving? I don’t know what happened to John, but I heard gunshots.”

“It’s over. He won’t hurt you anymore.”

“You’re positive?”

“John made sure of it.” Albert huffed and returned his gaze to Arthur’s cut, pensively inspecting it but clearly thinking about something else.

“Ironic that the man from my nightmares ends up being the one who saves me,” he muttered. This was new information to Arthur and he drew his eyebrows together upon learning it.

“You’ve been having nightmares? About John?”

“Well I didn’t know it was John, I just knew him as the man on the train who shoved a gun in my face. Not something I experience often, I’ll remind you.”

They’d never really discussed that night on the train in any meaningful way, both tacitly agreeing to let it be an episode in their past. But now Arthur regretted never hearing Albert out, learning how the incident affected him. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s nothing,” Albert readily dismissed. It wasn’t nothing, not to Arthur, but they didn’t have to talk about it now, there would be time later. They had all the time in the world now as far as he knew.

“If you say so… Are you ready to head back down?” Albert took in a deep breath and nodded.

“If it means we can get out of here sooner, lead the way. There’s just one thing though.”

“What’s that?”

Albert swept a hand around the back or Arthur’s neck, running his fingers through his hair, and pulled the both of them in for a kiss that Arthur was more than willing to welcome. He indulged Albert for a few seconds, but had to pull himself away lest they risk elevating things to something more; hardly a wise move considering John would come looking for them if he thought they were taking too long.

With a dizzy and unabashed grin, “What was that?”

“Oh, that was entirely for me. Felt I deserved it; I’ve had quite a morning.”

“Well aren’t you a greedy bastard.”

“You didn’t seem to object,” Albert pointed out. 

“No. Guess I didn’t…”

John could wait just a little longer.

* * *

In retrospect, Arthur probably should have warned Albert what to expect inside the building.

“Oh good lord!” He was frozen in place, staring at Micah’s corpse, still face-down in a pool of his own blood in the middle of the center aisle where John dropped him.

“Ah, yeah, sorry. Haven’t gotten to him yet.” John was at the far corner near the front entrance, where Micah was hiding earlier. He seemed to be focused on something in the ceiling before he was interrupted.

“No, it’s… no trouble at all. If nothing else it’ll give my subconscious a morbid sense of closure.” Still eyeing the body, Albert made sure to give it a wide berth and stuck to the far wall as he and Arthur approached John’s corner.

John pointed to the exposed rafters above him, “I think I found it.” There was a wooden chest precariously balanced on one of the beams Arthur had shot during his struggle with Micah. “Not sure how Dutch got it up there, but I can give you a lift.”

John bent his knees and cupped his hands together, ready to give Arthur a boost to reach up for it.

Instead, Arthur slung his Lancaster repeater over his shoulder and fired a round at the damaged beam, causing the chest to fall next to John.

“Or we could do that…”

The three of them huddled around it, John squatting in the center and trying to figure out how to open the hatch.

“Is that what he was looking for?,” Albert asked. “What is it?”

John opened the chest.

It was filled to the brim with stacks of money clips.

“Oh…” Albert finally seemed to be at a loss for words for once. John grinned and looked over to his left at Arthur and began laughing in disbelief. His brother did not join in however, not feeling too amused at the moment. Instead he reached forward and picked up a slip of paper that was resting on top of all the cash. There was just one line of text written in a handwriting he knew all too well.

_ Property of Dutch van der Linde _

“Not no more it’s not,” Arthur mumbled before looking back at the contents of the chest. The sight of it gave him an uneasy sense of guilt. Davey, Mac, Jenny, the woman Dutch shot in a fit of rage, several Pinkertons and lawmen and who knows how many others died over that money. One could argue that all the problems the gang had faced since that botched job was a result of this money now before the three men. As far as Arthur cared, this money was as soaked with blood as the floorboards behind him were.

He stood up and strutted over to lean against the main doorway, not wanting to look at it any longer. There was still a healthy amount of daylight left in the day, but considering everything that had transpired over the last twenty four hours, he was so tired he could have curled up on the floor and fallen asleep on the spot.

Behind him, Albert apparently found his words again. “Do I wanna know where all this came from?”

“Probably not,” John replied. He closed the chest and re-clasped the latches before standing up and directing to Arthur, “What are we gonna do with it?”

Still looking out at the remains of the settlement, “Don’t matter to me. I just wanted to make sure Micah didn’t get it.”

“Well I can’t take all this for myself, what about the rest of the gang? I don’t need them coming after me if they find out,” John pointed out.

“No one else knows about this. Hell, no one else even knows we’re here right now. Far as I care, you can take the whole thing and I won’t tell a soul.”

A small sound died at the back of Albert’s throat, but he chose not to speak up.

John evidently felt a different way about it however. “No way. It’s not safe to travel alone with this much money, and Abigail wouldn’t want us to screw over the others like that. They’re still our friends.”

_ Of course,  _ now _ he decides to start using his head. _

Arthur shrugged dismissively, “Then split it up with the others.”

“What about your share?”

“Give it to someone else, I want nothing to do with that damn money. The price we paid for it was too high.”

John huffed. “Fine, I’ll give it to Albert.”

“Me? Why me?”

“If I hadn’t seen you tied up on the side of the road, I wouldn’t have even known to come here. Seems only fair.” This finally pulled Arthur’s attention back into the building.

“What do you mean ‘tied up on the side of the road?’” John sighed.

“Look, let’s all catch up with each other. How ‘bout you start by telling me what happened after the bank?” John lugged the chest over to the sturdiest remaining pew he could find and propped it up and sat next to it. “Albert, you mind helping me count this while he talks?”

* * *

_ $147,655.50 _

That apparently was what was worth one of the largest gunfights this country had seen since the war. Then there were the two satchels with $5,000 each stored on Baylock’s saddle, Dutch’s bounty. And another money clip off of Micah’s belt that seemed inconsequential in the face of the rest of it.

It took under an hour for John and Albert, mostly Albert, to count it all up as Arthur collected and reloaded all his weapons scattered about from the earlier fight with Micah. While doing this he retold the events of the past few days. The shootout and fire at Shady Belle, rescuing Mary from the city, finding Albert, the plan they worked up with Sadie, the train job outside of Annesburg and recounting Dutch’s final moments the previous night. When it was his turn, John recalled what transpired on the Saint Denis rooftops, hiding on the docks, being abandoned by Charles, hiding in a trash cart and escaping the landfill to Lackay. He also explained that he had left Abigail and Jack at Riggs Station and that they were probably beginning to worry about him.

The decision was made to return to Riggs Station, then back to Valentine, hoping safety in numbers would make it easier to transport the money. Arthur brought Ivy back to the settlement and John was already on Old Boy, awkwardly holding the large chest in front of him. Baylock was still hitched at the side of the building and Arthur saw no reason not to bring him.

“Al, you think you take Micah’s horse?”

Albert glanced at the creature and one could almost swear it challenged the photographer to try something with the stare it returned to him. “I don’t think this animal is quite too fond of me. He already almost trampled me once today.”

It seemed cruel to just leave it here abandoned though. “Alright fine, you take Ivy and I’ll ride him. Maybe we can sell him at the stable.” John scoffed.

“You’re gonna let Albert hurt himself like that? Ivy never lets anyone else touch her; no way she doesn’t buck him off in ten seconds.”

Albert hesitated at John’s prediction, but the expression on Arthur’s face convinced him it was an exaggeration. He climbed up into Ivy’s saddle, and though her tail swished and she rocked her head in confusion, she didn’t outright fling him off like she would have done with anyone else. Realizing he wasn’t going to get bucked, he pat Ivy’s neck and flashed a sly grin at John.

“I’m sorry, John, were you saying something?,” with just a touch more snark than was necessary. The younger outlaw seemed genuinely surprised.

“Well I’ll be. Guess you two have been spending more time together than I thought.”

Arthur successfully soothed Baylock in a way Albert wasn’t able to and the trio went north. They made quite a sight, between Arthur and Albert openly sporting injuries and John clumsily attempting to hide a chest in his lap that he was having trouble enough just holding onto. Fortunately they only encountered two separate travelers on the road and Arthur’s brandished repeater ensured no one bothered them.

* * *

When Abigail laid eyes on them she almost burst into tears and Arthur wasn’t above admitting that he got emotional as well. John led them to a wooded area not far from the train station where they had situated the wagon earlier in the day. Abigail was already climbing out from the back of the wagon towards them.

“I don’t believe it!”

Arthur dismounted and immediately found her arms wrapped around his neck, and he was more than happy to return the embrace of his old friend.

“You made it,” he whispered to her.

“We did.” She pulled back and wiped at her eyes with a smile. “I wasn’t sure what happened to you after you left John. That day… Arthur, I am so sorry about Hosea and not telling you our plan, I didn’t-“ He gently held her hands and cut her off.

“It’s fine, Abigail. You did what you had to. The fact that you made it out at all means that it was worth it.”

She smiled again and looked back to the wagon where Albert was helping John load the chest into the back. Jack popped out from behind some satchels and almost sent Albert jumping out of his skin as the father and son laughed at his expense. Abigail returned her gaze to Arthur and looked like she couldn’t help but ask.

“Is that your gentleman friend John was telling me about?,” she inquired in a hushed voice.

“Think he’s more than just a friend at this point, but yes. C’mon, I’ll introduce you. But you gotta be nice to him, I like him.” His request was met with a mischievous grin.

“I’m nice to everyone, what’re you talking about?” There were certainly a few people back at camp that would’ve had something to say about that, but there was no point bringing that up now, and Abigail knew what he was joking at. They strode over to the rest of the group and it seemed Albert’s heart rate had restored to a normal tempo.

“Al, this is Abigail Roberts. She used to be in the gang with us.”

He gingerly took her hand and bowed, that upper-class charm still managing to shine through. “Yes, we, ah, met earlier in the day I believe, but it’s nice to formally make your acquaintance. Albert Mason.”

“Is that so?” Arthur already knew the story, but he couldn’t pass up the chance to make Abigail squirm under his curious gaze.

“Look, I’m real sorry about that, but we couldn’t risk Micah recognizing us. Didn’t help that John all but froze up when he saw you.”

“I just couldn’t believe it was  _ him _ standing in the middle of the road all tied up like that. I didn’t know what the hell was going on,” the younger outlaw tried defending himself. “And then you said ‘this isn’t a trap,’ which made me think, ‘okay, this is obviously a trap.’”

Abigail scrunched up her face in thought and looked at John. “Wait, how  _ did _ you recognize him? You’ve met him before? I thought Arthur only talked about him to you.”

“Yes, we have met, but unfortunately the first time we crossed paths your man here put a gun to my forehead,” Albert confessed. Abigail wheeled back around.

“John Marston! What is he talking about?”

His eyes darted around, apparently not proud of being caught in a lie of omission. “Can we… can we talk about this later? We should probably head out soon anyway, come on.” 

Matter-of-factly, Albert supplied, “Yes, don’t worry, Miss Roberts, I will tell you all about the attempted robbery later this evening.” It was as if he lit the fuse on a stick of dynamite and threw it into a room before casually walking away. Predictably Abigail turned her ire towards John who tried shrinking behind the far side of the cart from her scrutiny.

Arthur laughed at the situation playing out before him: Albert intentionally making John uncomfortable and riling Abigail up for no reason other than good humor. He was thankful for how easily the man seemed to fit in with the closest people he had left that he could consider to be family; it was as if Albert had always been there with them. Just before Albert prepared to hoist himself on top of Ivy to get going, they locked eyes. Arthur wanted to say so much in that moment, how thankful he was for Albert, how sorry he was for all the trouble Arthur had caused him, how much he meant to him, and so much more. But the knowing glance he received back and warmed his chest told him that it wasn’t necessary, that Albert understood all the same.

* * *

_ 8/1/99 _

_ The past two days have felt like a week, and I look like I have aged a year. Dutch was finally betrayed by Micah, something I feared would happen for a long time now. I was there for his last moments, something I wish I could have done for Hosea. _

_ [Sketch of a portrait of Dutch, captioned “R.I.P.”] _

_ Before he passed, he told me where he hid the Blackwater money, and that he had told Micah first. Why he did that, I do not know, but I do not think I want to know either. _

_ I came back to Valentine and found out that  _ _ snake _ _ of a man had captured Albert and gone to get the money. I followed after and nearly got killed myself, but John saved both our lives. Now we’re sitting on entirely too much money and I’m not comfortable with it. Maybe we should try to find the others and split it up. _

_ All that matters is that Albert is safe. I don’t know what i would’ve done if anything worse had happened to him. _

* * *

The group returned to Valentine shortly before sunset and reunited with Sadie, who was her normal fiery self. Whatever bruised ego she might have had from being bested by Micah evaporated at the news of the man’s death.

The rest of them opted to camp outside the town and plan their next steps while Arthur and Albert returned to their hotel room and promptly collapsed from exhaustion after a brief but intimate exchange of assurances and apologies.

Going to sleep early afforded Arthur the energy to wake up early however, and there was one last thing he had to do before his mind could truly be at ease.

* * *

Arthur was leaning against a house and savoring the brisk morning air before the sun that was threatening to spill across the sky in the next ten minutes or so heated the day into another summer scorcher. He was able to see the post office from where he was hidden, but if he was lucky, he wouldn’t have to enter the building at all.

There weren’t many people out this early, not like there would be on a proper ranch or farm, but Arthur would have to be careful not to attract too much attention to pull off this plan he had worked up and not told anyone about. Occasionally peeking out and scanning the road, he didn’t have to wait long before he saw his quarry obliviously strolling to begin another workday. He took a deep breath and stepped out into the street, intercepting the man.

“Lester Henderson?” The postman seemed startled at having his morning routine interrupted, but quickly regained his composure and flashed a smile.

“Oh! Good morning, sir, I haven’t seen you in a while. ...I’m sorry, I seem to have forgotten your name.”

“Are you sure about that?  _ Really _ sure?” Completely blocking the man’s path, Arthur rested his hands on his hips, comfortably close to his visible Volcanic pistol, and silently challenged Lester with a mean glare. Seeing that the man was clearly rattled and at a loss for words, Arthur dropped the act in a flash and offered a fake smile. “Course you don’t know me, I’m nobody. Come on, I’ll walk with you a bit.”

“Oh, of course…,” was all Lester could get out before Arthur snaked an arm around his neck in a friendly gesture that had no sincerity behind it. “What  _ is _ your name then?”

“It’s not important. What is important is a rumor I heard going around. One I think you might find  _ very _ interesting.” With a firm grip on the man’s shoulder, Arthur was able to control his walking speed, and they had slowed down considerably.

Lester was trying and failing to put on a brave face. “And what might that be?”

“I heard that Arthur Morgan was dead. He was up by Annesburg for something when he got jumped by those Murfree boys. They shot him and brought him back to one of their caves and chopped him up.”

“How unfortunate.”

“Yeah, some nasty business.”

“How did you?...” Lester was silenced by Arthur’s stern eyes.

“Now don’t you worry about how I found out. Just know that this is a reliable piece of information I am offering you, friend.”

“And why are you offering it to  _ me? _ ”

“Seems like the kind of thing a man like you might be interested in. A man who pays attention to wanted posters and names that pass through your desk. You are that kind of man, aren’t you?”

It was more of a declaration than a question and judging by the look on Lester’s face he recognized what Arthur knew.

“Or maybe you’re not that kind of man,” Arthur continued. “I don’t know you, just like how you don’t know me. But maybe you know others who might be interested in this information. Fancy fellers with fancy hats.”

Uncomfortable and intimidated, Lester asked, “What do you want me to do?” Arthur brought them to a halt off of the main road and turned Lester to face him.

Pointing a finger in the other man’s face, “I want you to tell Milton that Arthur Morgan is dead,” he growled, leaving no room for doubt. “And I wanna start hearing that rumor about him spread around, I know how chatty all you postmen are. Now I’m gonna be coming back here in a few days, not telling you when, but when I do, you’re gonna have told Milton what I told you, correct?”

“Sir this is hardly-“

The Volcanic was firmly pressed under Lester's chin almost immediately.

“Now I don’t wanna go waking up the folk of this fine town so early with a gunshot, so I’m gonna ask you again…”

“Yes! Okay, yes, I’ll do it! Jesus Christ!”

“Now that’s more like it.” Arthur gave him a condescending pat on the cheek with his free hand and stepped back, still aiming the gun at the postman. “Now remember, I’m gonna be back soon, but I ain’t decided when yet. You think you can get all that done for me before I’m back?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” They stared at each other for several beats before Arthur gestured, “Run along now, don’t wanna be late for work, do ya? My tax dollars ain’t paying you to loiter.”

The skittish civil servant needed no further excuse to remove himself from the situation and began to scurry off. A final idea popped into Arthur’s head though, and despite the fact that he didn’t like improvising during jobs, he felt he could make an exception here.

“Oh, and John Marston’s dead too,” he called out. Thankfully Lester slowed down.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. He just drowned though, nothing fancy.”

“My condolences.”

“I don’t care, I didn’t know him.” He took an aggressive step forward as if to follow the man. “Why? Did you?”

“N- no!”

“I should hope not. It’s  _ real _ dangerous getting mixed up with criminals, you know.”

Lester was about to retort, but slipped on something in the muddy road and fell onto his back while walking towards the post office and trying to keep Arthur in sight. Arthur laughed at him and meandered into the woods, careful not to be seen heading right back to the hotel.

_ I still got it. _

It was true he wanted to become a better man and had no intention of actually shooting the postman, let alone actually coming back to Valentine to follow up on the threat. But threatening people was still a line he was willing to cross from time to time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Arthur got his ass kicked. My reasoning for handling it this way was that I wanted this work to mirror, but not follow the canon if that makes sense. When Arthur and Micah fight at the end of Chapter Six, Micah comes out on top, and John is the one who ends up killing him; that's still preserved here, just with some major tweaks to the formula. Also happy I finally got to come back around to deal with the post clerk, which was a seed I planted all the way back in Chapter Two of this work.
> 
> I'll admit this chapter felt a little anti-climactic to me, but I've been mulling over the logistics of this ending for Micah for about two months now and just could not come up with anything more satisfying, but maybe that's just me being too critical of myself. There's also the fact that I wanted to get this out of the way because I'm more excited about the remaining three chapters (the "epilogue" kinda got away from me, remember when I originally thought this was going to be 12 chapters in total?). So we're close to the end, but this is not the end yet. Let me know your thoughts.


	21. Tumbleweeds and Tall Trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Albert figure out what the future will hold for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These final three chapters will be more of a series of vignettes, with a lot of (linear) time skips than the straightforward prose I've written up to this point. I encourage you to pay attention to the dates from the journal entries to get a sense of the passage of time. This chapter picks up the same day as Arthur's conversation with Lester Henderson however.

A rude old woman who looked like she had never traveled farther than ten miles from Emerald Ranch in her life scowled at Arthur after he knocked on the door to the bed and breakfast.

“Can’t you read the sign? We got no vacancies.”

Arthur was about to snap right back at the woman when Albert pulled him back and stepped forward himself. “Terribly sorry for the confusion, we just would like to see a guest who’s staying here.”

The woman eyed Albert suspiciously, but at least he wasn’t getting the same outright hostility that Arthur received. “Who’re you trying to see?”

“A Miss Mary Linton. I believe she arrived here within the past week. We’re two friends of hers, Albert and Arthur.” The old woman scrunched up her nose at him before closing the door in his face without a word. “Well, hopefully she’s going to check for us?”

Arthur had backed up away from the front porch to cool off, lest he lose his patience with yet another hotel clerk. He was trying to get a good look at himself through the weak reflection in the window next to the front door. He wanted to make himself somewhat presentable to Mary; old habits died hard. No doubt remembering the last time he saw Arthur doing this, Albert stepped forward and fixed Arthur’s collar and pointed out that his shirt had become untucked in the back from riding all morning.

“Thanks, Al,” Arthur whispered. Albert merely gave him a brief smile, and let his hand linger on Arthur’s waist a second longer than he needed to before they both turned back to face the door.

Maybe a full minute passed by after the old woman disappeared inside the building before the door opened again. Mary carefully stuck her head out, and upon seeing her two friends she gasped and exited the building looking relieved. Arthur grinned and stepped forward to greet her. She strode forward and threw herself…

...right into Albert’s waiting arms.

“Oh, Albert, I am  _ so _ glad to see you’re alright!”

“And you as well, Mary! I can’t even imagine what the past few days have been like for you.”

“I’ve been worried sick something bad would happen to you.”

Arthur cleared his throat, only half-joking at pretending to have hurt feelings. Mary extricated herself from Albert’s embrace and repeated the gesture with Arthur.

“Oh, Arthur, I know you can handle yourself.”

“Don’t mean I was in any less danger!”

“I know, but you’re used to that kind of…  _ excitement _ ,” was the word Mary chose to settle on. “Albert’s got no business messing around with criminals, he’s not a gunslinger like you.”

“Funny story about that-“

“Oh, don’t you start,” Albert interrupted with a scolding tone. Mary looked between the two of them with confusion, but Albert didn’t address it. “We’re on our way back to Saint Denis today and we were wondering if you would like to travel with us since you’re still here. Unless you were planning on taking a train?”

Mary looked back to Arthur, “Is it safe now?”

He nodded. “It’s over, Mary. No one’s coming after you two no more. Hell, me neither probably if I keep my head down.”

“I am relieved to hear that, truly. Well if you’ve got room for one more, of course, I’ll ride with you.”

“Splendid!,” Albert said as he clasped his hands together, “I imagine you must miss the city almost as much as I do.”

“Emerald Ranch is… charmingly rustic, but yes, I very much am looking forward to returning to something more familiar and sharing tea with a good friend at a café.”

“And I as well. Well, I’ll go get the horses, I’ll be back momentarily.” Albert tipped his hat as he made his way back towards the station where they’d hitched the girls; they thought it would be easier to find this supposed bed and breakfast on foot.

When they were alone, Arthur asked, “Do you need help packing?” Mary shook her head.

“No, I’ve been ready to leave at a moment's notice as soon as I got here. I had no idea what had happened to the two of you or who might be coming to look for me here.”

“I’m sorry you got dragged into that mess, but I’m glad you stayed safe. I really owe Sadie.”

“She is quite the character,” Mary admitted, “but I suppose you always had interesting people around you. How is she?”

“She got shot at again, but she’s alright. I don’t think anything in the world can keep that woman down.” Mary arched an eyebrow at the deadpan delivery, as if women getting shot at multiple times and surviving was a regular occurence.

“She sounds like someone who’s not afraid of anything… Sounds like the type of woman I thought you’d eventually end up with.”

“I don’t really see myself ending up with a woman at all no more.” The words fell out of Arthur’s mouth before he knew he was saying them and he wasn’t sure why he so freely admitted it. It was true he had mostly written off the prospect of finding love for several years, but Albert managing to stumble his way into Arthur’s heart had been a welcome surprise. It was temporary though, and Arthur would be a fool to nurse dreams of something long term; he’d only be setting himself up for more heartache.

Mary’s face took on a pained expression. “Did… When…,” she tried beginning but seemed at a loss for words, but Arthur allowed her to take her time. Finally, “Were you happy with me, Arthur? When we were together?”

He had no idea where this was going, but he indulged her, “Of course. I loved you but… that was a long time ago now.”

“I know, and I don’t mean nothing by it, it’s just… I know some men,” quickly glancing over her shoulder at the station, “Some men court women because they feel they  _ have _ to, not because they  _ want _ to. Does that make sense?”

Arthur huffed, now understanding what she was fishing for. He snagged his thumbs through his belt loops and looked at the ground, keeping his voice low. “It weren’t like that, Mary. I wasn’t using you, I wasn’t hiding anything. This whole thing?,” gesturing with his head towards the station, “It’s taken me by surprise just as much as you. Hell, probably more. But that don’t mean what we had wasn't real.”

A ghost of a smile appeared on her face. “I just thought maybe we didn’t work out because you were looking for something I could never give you.”

“No, we didn’t work out because of your damned father, not because you’re a woman,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Oh, you leave daddy out of this,” she play-slapped Arthur’s shoulder. “I guess this is just a new concept to me, liking both.”

“Imagine how I feel, only just figuring it out now,” Arthur joked. She smiled back and studied him for a moment.

“You are happy with him though, aren’t you?”

“I am. I’d do anything for him.”

“Well, Albert has been a good friend to me in the short time I’ve known him and I think he’s a good man. For what it’s worth, you have my blessing.”

“Thank you, Mary.”

They held each other’s gaze not as spiteful ex-lovers but as old friends who could be happy for each other. He was glad he was able to reestablish something Mary after all these years, though he could’ve never guessed it would take this form.

Arthur cleared his throat.

“Think we’re gonna head out soon.”

“Of course. I’ll just be a few minutes,” Mary replied before slipping back into the building.

It was a strange dynamic, Arthur’s former and current lovers being friends independent of him, but he found he didn’t hate it. He’d lost too many people recently to be overly picky about how exactly everyone around him fit into his life. He wasn’t keeping anyone separate, no more secrets anymore, and he would try his best not to lose anyone else that he cared about.

* * *

Madame Garnier was thrilled to see Albert again after his hiatus, and he fumbled his way through a conversation with her using his out-of-practice French. Arthur merely waved and offered a “bonjour,” but Albert corrected him that it was too late in the day and he should’ve said “bonsoir” instead.

_ Can’t even say “hello” right. _

The two travel-weary men dragged themselves up the stairs of the Hôtel la Licorne. When Albert opened the door with his key, a wave of stale, hot air hit them from the pitch black room.

“Can’t believe I left those curtains closed again,” Albert muttered to himself as he felt his way through the darkness until he reached the far end, separating the curtains and flinging the window open to air out the room for the first time in days. Arthur closed the door behind him and flicked a switch to turn on the pathetic ceiling fan that spun so slowly it may as well have just been decorative.

“How come you couldn’t’ve gotten a room at Mary’s hotel?” The superior establishment was fresh in his mind; they had just dropped her off safely and said their goodbyes before coming back here for the evening.

“That place is a little rich for my blood,” Albert explained as he was already disrobing in an attempt to cool off. “And you know how I feel about snooty upper-class types.”

Arthur took a seat at the edge of the bed and began working on taking off his boots and socks. “You seem to get along with Mary just fine.”

“Mary is lovely! She’s genuine, she doesn’t fish for compliments or favors out of me; it’s hardly fair to compare her to your run-of-the-mill old-money, stuck-up housefrau who’s never been told ‘no’ by her boring and fat husband that she’s only with because of his wealth.”

“Okay, but how do you  _ really _ feel about rich folk?”

Shirtless, Albert flung himself backwards onto the bed, staring up at the useless ceiling fan. “I’m too hot to keep talking about this, can’t we just call it an early evening and rest?”

“Fine by me. The past few days have felt like a month, I could use a break.”

“I know. I need a vacation...”

“Ain’t you on vacation right now?,” Arthur joked as he pulled his own shirt over his head, already feeling slightly more comfortable

“I guess technically, though ‘getting kidnapped’ never found its way onto my vacation to-do list.”

“Well what is on your ‘to-do’ list?”

Albert held his hands into the air before him, as if he were holding a piece of paper. “Right now it simply reads ‘do nothing’ for the next few days, and I plan to do just that.”

“I like that plan.” Arthur also laid back on the bed, trying to build up the willpower to remove his pants. “So what happens now?”

“What’s going to happen is we’re going to keep staring at this miserable appliance on the ceiling until we fall asleep.”

Arthur laughed at that, but he tried again, “No, I mean… with you and me?” Albert turned his head to look at Arthur on his left with a pleading look.

“Arthur, it is far too hot to have sex tonight, I’m already sweating just lying here.”

“I’m not asking that, you dog, I’m asking if you want me to stay with you!” Albert furrowed his brow and propped himself up on his elbows.

“Of course I do. Why would I kick you out?”

“I just know… a lot of what happened to you was my fault. I’d understand if you wanted to spend some time away from me.”

“Are we really doing this again? Arthur, I love you. You had just as hard a week as I did, if not worse, I’m not going to push you away out of spite or anger or some other reason.”

He was quiet for a few moments, deciding what to say next. “I got nowhere else to go now. I feel like I got nothing without the gang except you. Just want to make sure I’m not impeding on you.”

“Trust me, if I had a problem with it, I’d tell you. In fact, I want you to stay with me.”

“For how long though? How long before you go back to New York?” Even in the dark Arthur could read Albert’s uncomfortable expression to mean he didn’t want to talk about this.

“I haven’t decided yet. I did tell my mother in my last letter to her that I’d be staying longer, so they’ll know not to expect me, but… Let’s just take it day by day, shall we? I’m not going to spring a surprise on you and just disappear on a boat one day if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

That was exactly the type of scenario Arthur was most afraid of, but he had to take Albert’s word for it.

“Okay... You know what would put me at ease though?” With a single finger he playfully tugged at the waistband of Albert’s pants, and was quickly swatted away.

“Don’t you touch me. I meant what I said.”

“So much for not pushing me away...,” Arthur grumbled.

“I swear, I am this close to dragging you down to the Pinkertons and collecting your bounty myself.”

“Well maybe then you can afford Mary’s hotel.”

“I bet she has a ceiling fan that actually does what it’s supposed to...”

* * *

_ 12/20/99 _

_ [Sketch of a rattlesnake curled up and ready to strike. It’s captioned, “Outside Tumbleweed.”] _

* * *

The snake was visibly and audibly agitated and it unnerved Arthur; he never got used to the sound of a rattlesnake’s warning.

“Al, please back up.”

An affirmative “Hmm mm,” was the automatic response he got, confirming that Albert hadn’t really heard him at all. The photographer was crouched, one knee on the ground, and pointing his camera at the reptile from barely two feet away, easily within striking distance. Forgoing the tripod, he was just holding the device in his hands.

The rattlesnake shifted in its coiled position and drew its head back, flicking its tongue furiously.

“Al?”

“That’s  _ perfect _ , hold that right there…,” he muttered to himself. The flashbulb burst and the snake lunged forward, sending Albert falling backwards with a yelp. Arthur rushed forward and kicked the snake, sending it flying some ten feet away before it slithered into some hiding spot.

“Al! You okay? Did he get you?”

“I… I don’t think so… Oh! My camera!”

“Forget the damn camera, lemme get a good look at you!”

Arthur tried in vain to inspect his uncooperative charge, but it was soon clear that it wasn’t necessary. Albert laughed as he pointed at two pinpricks on the front of his camera that had some liquid leaking from them.

“Look at that! It bit the frame, not me.”

“Yeah, right next to where you had your hand. You gotta be more careful!” Though frustration was bleeding into his voice, Arthur was secretly relieved. He offered a hand and pulled Albert up off the ground.

“There’s always room for improvement, that’s true. Well I think this is a good time to take a break, don’t you?”

The two men sauntered over to a dead tree some hundred feet away where their horses struggled to find any edible grass or shrubs. They were in a stretch of desert a few miles south of Tumbleweed, and this tree was the closest thing that could pass for shade in the area. Even though they had waited until winter to come out this way, the sun was uncomfortably warm beating down through all their layers of clothing they would need to weather the temperature drop later that night.

The gang had been set up in this area, many, many years ago, so Arthur was familiar with it. As he passed Albert his canteen and insisted he drink from it; one could become dehydrated even if they weren’t hot. Arthur let his eyes scan their surroundings. They were likely the only ones around here for miles and the dry air was a welcome change from all the swamps he’d been forced to endure that past summer.

He wondered if Bill was nearby. After everyone split up from Shady Belle he and Javier told everyone they were heading out west this way, but no one had heard or seen from them since. It was rare, but apparently TB was survivable. Arthur hoped Bill, mountain of a man that he was, was strong enough to overcome the disease that Arthur so easily could have gotten himself if he hadn’t been so lazy with Strauss’ laundry list of debtors all those months ago.

John and Charles were still trying to track down the rest of the gang to disperse the remainder of the Blackwater money. Arthur had just spent the past few months with Albert, taking day trips and excursions and making social calls, but he was more or less detached from the gang altogether now. Not that one could even call it a gang anymore as much as a group of people with a shared past.

Albert passing the canteen back to him brought him back to reality.

“You know I think you were teasing that snake on purpose.” Albert cocked an eyebrow.

“Oh do you now?”

“Looked to me like you  _ wanted _ it to bite you.”

“I just get too focused on my work sometimes, so I ignore the danger of a situation; you of all people know that by now. Besides, why would I  _ want _ to get bitten?”

“I dunno, maybe you wanted to watch me suck the venom out of you.”

“Well it wouldn’t be the first thing you’ve sucked out of me.”

Arthur hid his face under the brim of his hat as low as it could go. The redness on his face wasn’t a result of sunburn for once.

“ _ Jesus Christ, Mason…” _

Albert laughed at his expense for several seconds before he could compose himself, “Oh come on, you walked  _ right _ into that.”

Arthur merely grunted.

“And I know you thought it was funny because you called me ‘Mason’; you only do that when you’re pretending to be mad at me.”

Still hiding under his hat, “That so?”

“Of course, don’t think I haven’t noticed. Remember when we went swimming at that lake this past summer? I splashed you because you were taking too long to get in, you did it then too.”

Arthur recalled the memory fondly. “That was a good day. Wish we were back there right now.”

“It was. Maybe we could go again next summer?”

“You gonna still be here? You don’t think you’ll be back in New York?”

“...I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that actually.”

_ It’s happening. _

For the remainder of the summer and fall, Albert had stayed at the Hôtel la Licorne, and Arthur had been with him the whole time. He promised he’d take Albert out west to find a rattlesnake once the temperature cooled off, which is what they were doing now, but they had no further plans beyond this last trip. This was probably when Albert would drop the news.

He put on a brave face to mask his unease. “I’m all ears.”

“Well, not that I haven’t enjoyed spending time with you bouncing from hotel to hotel across the region, but I was wondering how you would feel about trying something more… permanent?”

Arthur wasn’t sure he was following. “Are you asking me to move to New York with you?” This made Albert equally confused.

“What? No, that’s not… Is that what you think I’ve been planning?”

“Well ain’t that what you’re trying to say? After this trip there’s no reason for you to stay so you’re gonna go back home.”

“No, I was going to ask if you wanted to buy a piece of property together!”

“...oh.” Albert shook his head.

“I swear, you are your own worst enemy sometimes the way you overthink yourself.”

“Hey, you’re no better.” Albert raised his eyebrows in concession, not debating the point.

“True. Maybe that’s why we get along so well.”

“Alright then, well what did you have in mind?”

Albert held a finger up as he dug into his bag and removed his journal. He thumbed it open to a page that was dense with neatly-ordered text.

“Uh oh, he’s got a list,” Arthur quipped.

“Of course I have a list, do you know me at all?” He quickly scanned the page before launching into his sales pitch. “So I’ve been giving the matter some though for a while now, and I came up with several locations we could consider, but I wouldn’t make any decisions without your input of course.”

Arthur leaned back into the tree, settling in for what could be a long discussion. “Okay, let’s have it.”

“First, I was thinking we could get an apartment in Saint Denis-“

“Absolutely not.”

Without even putting up a fight, Albert gently crossed out a line with his pencil. “As expected, but I had to try… Okay, how about someplace north of the city? Not necessarily Lagras, but near that area of Bayou Nwa?”

“If I never see another swamp again, it’ll be too soon.” He watched Albert cross out another line in the book and suggested, “How about west of the city? That’s some pretty country.”

“I don’t disagree, but you know how I feel about Rhodes, or at least the people. Next place I have on the list is Roanoke Ridge. Van Horn and Annesburg are a bit too dreary for my tastes, but I bet we could find a nice plot of land up in the hills.”

Arthur’s thoughts raced back to the night he rescued Dutch and the boys from the botched train robbery. The only reason he was able to do so was because those Murfree Brood boys attacked an entire convoy of Pinkertons, and damn near won the encounter from what he could tell. There were some violent people living in those hills, and even more grisly stories to go with them. And he only heard the ones from the survivors.

“Uhh, what else you got?” Albert paused and scribbled something before continuing.

“Well the heartlands are beautiful and spacious, I  _ know _ we could find a place there. Either close to Valentine or down by Flat Iron Lake, there are bound to be plenty of options.”

“I know Cornwall’s been buying up half the state to build all those oil rigs, kicking people out of their homes, but I don’t hate the idea. Put it down as a maybe.”

“Okay, I’m just gonna start going rapid fire through these. Tumbleweed?”

“Too hot.”

“Armadillo?”

“Ain’t they got a plague going on right now?”

“I did hear something about that, now that you mention it… Ambarino?”

“Too cold.”

“Strawberry?”

“Too boring.”

“Big Valley?”

“Too many bears.”

Albert chuckled as he crossed out that line.

“Blackwater?”

“Too-... too many bad memories.” He knew Albert liked the up-and-coming town and could fit right in, just the right balance of urban but close to nature, but the place had too much baggage for Arthur. The mood of the conversation soured instantly, but Albert was determined to power right through it.

“Well, again, this is just a list of places I was thinking about, hardly exhaustive of all our options, and it’s not like we  _ have _ to pick a place any time soon. It was just more of a thought exercise that I wanted to get your opinion on.”

This conversation had gone in a completely different direction than Arthur had anticipated, but not exactly in a bad way. It had been a very long time since he had some semblance of a permanent home, the concept almost seemed foreign to him, but now that his life in the gang was behind him, why shouldn’t he think about it? After all, that kind of stability was what Hosea had wanted him to achieve anyway, knowing exactly what the next day or the next month or even the next year would bring. And the mere fact that Albert was considering this at all told him that he wouldn’t have to do this alone; the man he loved was willing to go into this next chapter of life with him.

Albert began closing his book in the ensuing silence, assuming the conversation had died out before Arthur posed, “What about Tall Trees?”

Albert drew his eyebrows together, “I’m afraid I’m not familiar.”

“It’s west of Blackwater, maybe an hour or two ride away, not that far at all. It’s still pretty untamed, no oil men trying to tear it up just yet. Winters aren’t too bad and it ain’t too hilly.”

“Sounds promising. What’s the catch?”

“It’s wild country out that way, so there are a lot of hunters. Don’t think they would take too kindly to some city feller like you coming to tell them to spare all the wolves and bears.” Judging by the excited look on Albert’s face, he wasn’t sure he got the message across correctly.

“Arthur, that’s perfect! I’d be right there, able to convince the people I need to reach the most. That would be way more productive than showing pictures in a gallery hundreds of miles away.”

“Yeah, until they get fed up with you and start hunting  _ you. _ ”

Albert waved away the thought with his hand, “You would never let that happen.”

“I might if they paid me off.”

“Well whatever they offer you, I’ll double. I’ll remind you that I recently came into a bit of money,” Albert joked. Arthur never found out exactly how much cash John had given him from the Blackwater chest, but it must’ve been a considerable amount. Albert had coasted off that money while still renting a hotel room for four months and apparently was thinking about buying property with no income during that entire time.

“So you keep telling me. You sure that’s what you want though? Getting tied down to this part of the country so far from your family? You wanna be stuck with me?”

“Well you see there’s been this fascinating new invention called ‘the postal service’...”

“I’m gotta let the next snake bite your smart ass.”

“Don’t worry about my family; I miss them occasionally, but I would miss you so much more if I left. And you’d be much harder to track down and you know it.”

Arthur couldn’t dispute that, but Albert stood up from the ground and kept on before he could think of a retort.

“It’s just something to think about, we don’t have to make any decisions just yet. Now come on, do you think we can find a scorpion before the sun sets?”

* * *

_ 4/8/00 _

_ Found a place in Tall Trees. Not too bad. Albert thinks we can make it work and if he thinks that, that’s good enough for me. _

_ [Sketch of a single-story wooden house in the woods.] _

* * *

He should have been wearing better gloves for this, but in Arthur’s defense he didn’t expect to be doing physical labor of the landscaping variety when he woke up this morning. He made a few more precise cuts before sheathing his knife and with a final tug leaning back with his full body weight he got most of the vines off this side of the house.

The structure wasn’t in terrible condition, but nature had certainly tried to reclaim it, and likely would have succeeded if it were given more time. Arthur had overheard a hunter talking about it at the nearby Manzanita Post a few weeks back and he invited Albert to come out and take a look at it. Predictably, he immediately fell in love with it.

Arthur dragged the bulk of the dead vines, not yet warm enough in the year for them to come back to life, into a large pile away from the house. They’d make for good kindling if nothing else. The sound of an approaching horse from the nearby road grabbed his attention and he looked up to see Albert inspecting the house.

“See? That looks better already, doesn’t it?” He dismounted Penny, who immediately began eating the pile of vines. Arthur held his tongue at that.

“A new coat of paint would really do the trick, but it’s a good first step.” He took off his hat and wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his forearm. “So how’d it go?”

Albert smiled. “It sounds like it’s ours if we want it!”

“Really?”

“Yes. So here’s what happened; I went down to Blackwater City Hall and inquired about this place. Got an audience with the woman in charge of their records department who fortunately turned out to be something of a gossip, so I got the full story.”

“Well let’s hear it,” Arthur suggested as he meandered over to sit on a nearby stump.

“It was built in the 1850’s by pioneers who never made it all the way out to Oregon. The original owners died a few years ago and the place was abandoned until a woman named Maggie Fike took it up two years ago. Turns out she was running a moonshine operation out of this place, drew in people from all across West Elizabeth.”

“That explains the bar in the basement,” Arthur mused.

“Revenue agents finally caught wind of what she was up to, but she skipped town before they could launch the raid, and no one knows where she is now. The state seized the property but you can see it hasn’t been maintained very well. Sounds like they’d be happy to get it off their hands.”

“Would you be happy to take it from them?” Arthur had begun taking up some odd jobs here and there over the winter, but Albert would no doubt be paying for most of the house.

“I love the area; these woods are beautiful, I can’t imagine what it’ll look like once summer is in full swing. And the prairie is right there and you’re right, Blackwater isn’t that far at all. What do you think?”

Arthur shrugged, “Place seems solid. I saw one hole in the roof and some of the windows need new glass, but it ain’t a dealbreaker. Well still works, floors seem strong enough that I don’t worry about falling through to the basement. I mean you know me, I’ve slept outside most of my life, this is plenty fine for me.”

They both looked at the house some thirty feet away. It would need some work and it’d be a project, but it wasn’t like they had anything else going on.

“Let’s spend the night here, see if there’s anything crazy that happens after the sun goes down. Assuming it’s not haunted, I think I’ll head back into town tomorrow and make an offer.”

“Sounds good to me.” Arthur stood up and was about to start cleaning up the back of the house when a hand on his shoulder stilled him. But Albert wasn’t looking at him; instead he was still focused on the house.

“I hope this works out. I really think we could make a nice home here.”

_ Home. _

The word, now full of potential, struck Arthur in a way it never had before. In an instant he could imagine years’ worth of memories yet to happen taking place in this building before him with Albert at his side. For the first time in a long while he felt like he had something to look forward to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's about to get hella domestic up in this fic.
> 
> For anyone who plays Red Dead Online, this house is the fully-upgraded moonshine shack in Tall Trees, just a short distance south of Manzanita Post. It’s one of my favorite parts of the world map, don’t you agree? (SKINNER BROTHERS, DO NOT INTERACT)


	22. The New Century

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur adjusts to his post-gang life and settles into his new home with Albert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're gonna start getting real loose with the timeline here. It's still sequential, but page breaks will signify big time skips.

_ 7/31/00 _

_ One year ago today, Dutch died. I still do not understand some of the decisions he made towards the end, but I do miss him. The old him, at least. _

_ A few of us are going out to “see” him today. Charles thinks he found where Hosea, Sean, and Lenny are buried, so we’ll “visit” them as well. _

_ Outside of wartime, I don’t think it’s normal for someone my age to have so many friends six feet under. And while our luck  _ _ finally _ _ seems to have turned around, I must do everything I can to protect the people I still have. I am tired of losing people. _

* * *

“Do you remember that stupid record player?”

The group seated on the ground around Dutch’s headstone collectively groaned at John’s question. Albert seemed confused however.

“Wait, why would a  _ gang _ need a record player? Weren’t you always trying to lay low? That seems like a good way to draw attention to yourselves.”

“Dutch liked to show off how ‘cultured’ he was-,” Abigail tried explaining.

“How cultured he  _ thought _ he was,” Arthur corrected to a chorus of chuckles.

“Whatever, point is, he thought by reading all those fancy books and listening to opera music made us somehow better than all the other gangs,” she continued.

“Where do you think it ended up? It’s probably still at the house, no?,” John mused. Charles perked up and gave Arthur at his side a tap on the arm.

“Pretty sure it got torched when Arthur lit the place up.”

“Far as I’m concerned I did you all a favor by doing that…”

“Let’s be honest,” Sadie interjected as she took a fresh bottle from the crate, “The only reason he had that thing was to cover up his fights with Molly.”

“This was the upper-class Irishwoman?” Albert still struggled to remember all the former gang members and how they related to each other, no small task considering he never met half of them. His question was directed at Arthur, but all of them gave their affirmations.

“She was uptight, thought she was better than the rest of us.” Sadie immediately jumped on John’s dismissal.

“Now that ain’t fair, that woman was there for Dutch and only Dutch. It’s not like the rest of you made for good company.”

Gesturing at the small, slightly buzzed gathering, “What’re you talking about? We know how to kick back and have fun.”

“John, you did not speak to me once the entire time we were at Horseshoe.”

“Because I was afraid of you!”

“As you damn well should’ve been!”

After the latest round of laughter died down, Albert chimed in, “I’d wager you probably should still be. From what I hear Mrs. Adler is a bona-fide bounty hunter now; she could turn the lot of you in for a fortune!”

“Naw, I wouldn’t do that, Albert. There’s more to life than just making as much money as you can.”

Characteristically quiet for most of this conversation, Charles suddenly spoke up. “Wait! Shhh!”

The congregation stilled instantly, searching for danger. They were exposed out in Murfree country, and those who were armed reached for their guns in the tense moments that followed. But no one sensed anything.

“What is it?,” Abigail questioned in a hushed tone. Charles pointed at the ground beneath them.

“Nothing. I thought I heard him rolling in his grave.”

After a beat had passed and Charles’ joke had sunk in the jovial atmosphere immediately returned.

“You damn near gave me a heart attack, Charles!,” Abigail complained, though the smile on her face offset any irritation she might’ve felt.

Arthur shook his head, “I forgot how much of a cheeky bastard you can be when you want to.”

Charles merely smiled back at everyone before turning his head to the sky. It was approaching noon and the weather was good for traveling. “We should get going soon if we want to see the others.”

It was a fair point and the group had spent most of the morning here, reminiscing. Everyone grunted in concession and began picking themselves up off the ground, collecting empty bottles and trying to make the place presentable again. At least as presentable a gravesite out in the woods next to a river could be. Abigail went and collected Jack who had been digging in the mud next to the nearby riverbank.

“Is it far from here?,” Sadie asked. Charles shook his head.

“It’s a bit of a ride, maybe an hour or two. It’s just north of the city, Arthur knows where it is.”

While everyone behind him piled into the wagon and got on their horses, Arthur lingered at Dutch’s side again. Less than a month after he had passed, Arthur and Charles made the trip back out this way to give him a proper headstone, something Arthur was eternally thankful to Charles for. His absence from the others was noticed however, and he soon sensed John at his left and Albert at his right.

“You gonna ride with us?,” John asked.

“Naw, I’m just gonna be here a few minutes, I’ll catch up. Go on ahead of me.”

John placed a hand on Arthur’s shoulder and squeezed before returning to the others. He understood. Dutch and Hosea were his de facto father figures as much as they were to Arthur, but he handled his grief differently, bottling it up and denying it until every so often it all came out at once. Those were the times when either Abigail bore the full brunt of it or John would leave to be alone.

Albert likewise, also understood, but for entirely different reasons. At least once a week Arthur would bring up a new story about one or both the men that he’d never heard before, so he understood how important the two of them had been to him. By now he could recognize the hard days, when Arthur would feverishly throw himself at a task harder than he needed to or spent hours scribbling words and sketches into that journal until his hands cramped, blackened with graphite.  _ More productive than drinking the pain away _ , Arthur had told him once.

“Would you like me to stay?”

“No, you don’t gotta do that. You should ride with others. I’m sure they’ll tell you embarrassing stories about me without me there to defend myself.”

“My favorite kind.” Albert took off Arthur’s hat so it wouldn’t knock into his own, gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then put it back into place. “Take as long as you need.”

“Thanks, Al.” A minute later the makeshift caravan began heading south, towards Saint Denis and chatting and laughing away, leaving Arthur and Ivy alone yet again.

He thought back to that difficult night one year ago, lying on the ground on this very spot, talking aloud as if Dutch could hear him, but knowing it was more for himself. He knew it was silly, it even felt silly, but he swore that it helped and made him feel better the first time he did it, so why not try it again? When he began speaking it was so low that one would have to be standing right next to him to hear it, and the gaps between sentences were stretched out over long, quiet moments as he tried to think of what he wanted to say.

“One year. It’s been a strange one for me. Didn’t kill no one, haven’t robbed no one and I only got into two fist fights. Not counting that one with Micah. I hardly recognize myself anymore. That’s probably a good thing though,” he chuckled to himself.

“I have a home now if you can believe it. Been sleeping with the same roof over my head for a few months now. It’s kinda nice. It’s not exactly up to  _ your  _ standards. Little more than a shack in the woods right now, kinda reminds me of Colter. But it’s got a bar in the basement and we have some of the old crew over from time to time. It’s not Tahiti, but it’s nice all the same.

“That was Al that was here with us earlier, he’s the one I live with. The one I told you about. I still don’t think you two would’ve gotten along. Think you would’ve found him too idealistic, too naive. But he would’ve tried and put on a nice face around you if I asked. John likes him. The others too.

“I just wanted you to meet him. I wanted you to know that… you didn’t leave me alone. I’m not alone no more.”

He covered his eyes with his hand and inhaled deeply, holding it for several seconds before releasing it.

“I miss you. I’ll tell Hosea you said hello.”

One final gaze at the headstone that simply read, “D.V.D.L. 1855-1899”, and Arthur turned his back towards Ivy to start catching up with the others.

* * *

_ 8/18/00 _

_ [Sketch of Albert sweeping the front porch of their house.] _

* * *

As usual, Albert was wholly engrossed at the task at hand, blissfully unaware of his surroundings.

“You know usually the barber makes conversation with me when I’m getting a trim.”

“Yes, mine does as well, sorry. I just want to make sure I’m doing this right.”

“Take your time. It’s a Saturday, I got nothing else planned.”

They were on the front porch of their house, Arthur seated in a chair they dragged outside from the kitchen and with a towel draped over his body. Albert has been circling him with a pair of scissors trying to tame back his unruly wet hair in almost complete silence for two minutes now.

“Well, I suppose… how are you? I feel like I haven’t seen you at all this week.”

“Doing alright. Yeah, I’ve been spending time up with some of the hunters up in Manzanita. Chatty fellers, giving me tips for all kinds of odd jobs out this way.”

“Making friends? That’s nice.”

“Some of ‘em are friendly enough. I ain’t about to invite any of them back here though if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“What kind of jobs have you been finding?,” Albert asked as he pivoted to Arthur’s left.

“Scared some wolves away from some lumberjacks, helped a woman back home who’s horse up and died on her. Made a few bucks off this guy who challenged me to a friendly shooting competition. Little things like that here and there.”

“That certainly sounds like the you I know. Helping people and whatnot.”

His normal readied response along the lines of “you don’t know the kind of man I am,” sat on the tip of Arthur’s tongue, but he refrained. It simply wasn’t true in this case; Albert knew exactly what kind of man he was, what he’d done in the past, and yet still had decided to stick around. Maybe it was Arthur who didn’t know what kind of man  _ he _ was anymore.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence for a bit and Arthur realized Albert had gone dead silent again, completely absorbed as if one man’s haircut was the most important thing in the world. Arthur cleared his throat, and when that failed to get his attention, he just began speaking again.

“What about you?”

“Hm? Oh. Well I’ve been heading down to Blackwater most days as you can probably guess. Charming place, it’s starting to grow on me. No fancy galleries like Saint Denis, but I’m sure that’ll change in time. And you know they have a barber there.”

“I know.”

“...probably do a much better job than I can.”

“I have faith in you.” Seeing Albert wasn’t satisfied with that, he continued, “I just don’t wanna risk heading back there just yet. It was only a year ago my face was plastered on every building.”

“I remember… And I understand. I just hope one day it’ll feel safe for you again; I’d love to spend a day there with you, relaxing and taking in the sights.”

The thought of the two of them strolling down the main avenue side by side came into Arthur’s head. Maybe catching a show at the theater or fishing off the main pier, or even just kicking back at the saloon with some friends. Maybe it would be possible to make new good memories there to outweigh the bad ones.

“That’d be nice.”

Albert seemed to be fine-tuning and putting on the finishing touches, but when he stood in front of Arthur he wore a dissatisfied expression.

“What’s wrong?”

“Well…” He wet his lips and frowned, one of his default stalling tactics Arthur had come to recognize over their time together. “You usually wear a hat anyway, don’t you?”

Arthur threw the towel off him, stood up and marched over to the shaving kit where he could inspect himself in the small mirror. He stooped over to look at his reflection and…

Well it was bad. Very bad.

“What the hell did you do to me, Al!?”

“I  _ told _ you I’d never done this before.”

Arthur shook out some of the loose trimmings, but that didn’t help much. Instead, he walked back to the front door, opened it and grabbed his hat hanging on the hook just on the inside and closed it behind him.

“Alright, well get Penny saddled up I guess,” he said as he firmly shoved the hat on top of his head and walked off the front porch.

“Why? Where are we going?”

“Valentine, to a real barber. I can’t be seen looking like this!”

“Why do I have to come?”

“I’m making you pay!”

Albert gave him a sheepish grin as he retrieved his own hat from the inside and locked the door with his key. “I don’t know if we have the budget for that right now...”

Already on top of Ivy, “I think you’ll find I can squeeze the money out of you.”

“Really? Because last time you tried shaking me down I seem to recall walking away from the encounter with  _ more _ money.”

“Get on your damn horse, Mason.”

* * *

_ 9/10/00 _

_ [Sketch of a wooden-framed house under construction. The caption reads, “Beecher’s Hope - John’s new place”] _

* * *

The pain was instant and incapacitating in its severity.

“OW! God... _ DAMN IT! _ ”

For the fourth time in less than an hour, Arthur had hammered his thumb.

Some fifteen feet away, Albert straightened up and looked back over his shoulder at him. “Really? Again?”

Arthur had dropped the hammer and was shaking out his left hand in a fruitless attempt to dissipate the throbbing pain. Carefully, Albert stepped over the many joists and beams of the wooden frame they were working on to come closer.

“Let me take a look at that.”

“It’s fine, I’m getting the hang of it, I just slipped is all.” He hadn’t drawn blood, but it was obvious that even menial tasks involving his hands were going to be painful for the next few days. Albert took a close look at it and likely came to the same conclusion.

“Maybe you should take a break, love. Charles and I will finish this frame and we’ll let you know when it’s time to raise it into place.”

Arthur’s heart leapt at the use of their shared pet name, one they started to use only when they felt safe. It still felt new and exciting to him, but his injured digit didn’t let him linger in that headspace for too long. Albert looked down at the nail Arthur had butchered into place and frowned. Using the claw end of his own hammer, Albert removed the offending nail, took out a fresh one from the pouch on the front of his apron and expertly sunk it into the wood with just four clean strikes. He inspected the rest of the joist Arthur had been laboring over for the past half hour.

“On second thought, maybe I should clean up this end first. Tell you what, I’ll handle this, and you go get me a glass of water, deal?”

“Yeah, I think I can manage that.” Now nursing a bruised ego as well as his thumb, Arthur meandered over to a tree that John was leaning against, trying to find some shade. The younger man absolutely would have teased Arthur mercilessly if his own hand wasn’t swollen three times it’s normal size.

“You too, huh?”

Arthur shook his head in defeat. “Hosea taught us a lot of things, but swinging a hammer was not one of them.” John laughed at that.

“I can’t even imagine him doing that. No, he’d just swindle some poor idiot into doing it for him.”

“That’s exactly what he would do, and what we shoulda done,” Arthur agreed. The two of them relaxed into the tree trunk watching the scene play out before them. The foundation and two walls were up already, and they’d likely be able to get the roof up and finished before the worst of winter came in full force. Charles was off to the side inspecting the plans at a table again before resuming where he left off, and Albert was hammering away, oblivious to his surroundings.

“I’m still kinda surprised Albert agreed to help with this; we got off to a real bad start,” John started.

“What’re you talking about? Friends shove guns in each other’s faces all the time. You pointed one at him, I pointed one at you. Hell, Al actually pulled the trigger on me. It’s the circle of life.”

“I really don’t think that that’s what that term means-“

“Besides I think putting six bullets into Micah and giving him a stack of cash went a long way towards fixing any bad blood between you two.”

“Well when you put it that way… I guess I just wasn’t expecting him to be so involved with people from your ‘old life.’ I mean it was  _ his _ idea to let Abigail and Jack stay at your place while we’re building here.”

“He knows you're my brother and he’s thrilled to have guests. He just wants to get to know you all better and I don’t feel like I have to hide him anymore.”

“Makes sense I suppose.”

It was hard not to notice Albert was making short work correcting Arthur’s mistakes and he made his way back to his own section within two minutes of being left alone.

“He’s like a machine, how’s he so good at this?,” John asked.

“His father and older brother are carpenters, guess it runs in the family.”

“Is he still sure about the whole photography thing? I think he just found his true calling.”

Arthur shrugged, “Just because you’re good at something don’t mean that you like doing it. Look at you, you’re real good at drowning but you don’t go out of your way to do it.”

“Kinda like how you’re real good at smelling like your horse all the time?”

“Ivy is a fine animal, I ain’t even ashamed at that.”

“She’s  _ okay _ ,” John dismissed. Arthur genuinely took offense to that.

“The hell you mean, ‘she’s okay’? She’d leave Old Boy in the dust any day.”

“You challenging me to a race,  _ Mason? _ ” Arthur rolled his eyes.

While he was somewhat confident threatening the post clerk in Valentine threw the Pinkertons off his trail for a bit, one could never be too careful. Albert had constructed this whole elaborate backstory about how he left New York to escape city life and reconnect with his distant cousin “Arthur Mason,” who came from the pioneering side of the family. If anyone ever asked why two unwed men were living together, they had this fiction to fall back on. And the name was close enough to “Morgan” that he could probably play it off if he ever slipped up. John found all of it amusing and teased him about it whenever he could, but he was in the same boat.

“Sure thing,  _ Jim Milton _ , you’re on.”

“So are you two gossips actually going to do anything today?” Charles’ faux-irritated tone got their attention as he approached. “It’s bad enough Uncle ran off to take a nap somewhere. You got me and Albert building this whole house by ourselves and we’re not even gonna be living here!”

“You didn’t see the nails we tried hammering, we’re actually helping by staying out of your way,” Arthur pointed out.

“I don’t doubt that, but there are other things you could be doing. We never finished with the post fence around the front from the other day, why don’t you take a shot at that? There are no nails involved, I promise.”

“Yeah, he’s right, come on,” Arthur conceded while tapping John and pushing off the tree trunk. “You wanna get this place up before Christmas, don’t you? We shouldn’t’ve started so late in the year.”

“What, we can't stay with you guys if this runs long? I saw how big that basement was.”

“Abigail and Jack can stay,” seeing Charles tilt his head, “Charles too,” getting a thankful nod in return, “but you and Uncle gotta stay here. Make sure squatters don’t move in, you know?”

“We’ll see how Albert feels about you kicking guests out of  _ his _ house,” John shot back. Charles sucked in air through his teeth in a mock wince.

“Oof, that was  _ low _ , John. I’m not helping you out of this one.” Charles began returning to work on the frame before he got caught in the crossfire of Arthur’s murderous glare.

It was nothing John hadn’t been the target of before and he welcomed it with an ear-to-ear grin. “Aww, hey now, I didn’t mean nothing by it,  _ Mister Mason _ .”

John’s back-pedaling turned into a full-on sprint after Arthur stepped toward him and growled, “C’mere you little shit.”

The two men chased after each other in what would ultimately end in scuffle to the ground, but not before Albert was left calling after them, “Hey, what happened to that water I asked for?”

* * *

_ 3/27/01 _

_ The illness came suddenly and has rendered me a hollow shell of the man I once was. I cannot stop coughing and I’m beginning to sound like how Bill did towards the end. I am finally reaping what I have sown from all the evil deeds I’ve carried out over my life. I do not know how much time I have left. _

_ John, protect Abigail and Jack. Oh, Mary! Be happy, please be happy. Albert, I am sorry that I am leaving you so soon, but know that you will always be in my heart. _

* * *

Arthur coughed into his hand as a new fit seized his body, and when he pulled it away, it was wet. He closed his journal and sighed.

“You are being  _ so _ dramatic.”

Arthur jumped at the surprise and looked up. Standing behind the couch Albert was looking over his shoulder and offering a handkerchief, which he accepted thanklessly.

“The hell are you sneaking up on me like that for?” He hated how his voice sounded when he was this congested.

“I thought you were taking a nap; it was so quiet in here when I came in.” Albert walked over to the dining table in this large living space of a room and placed the box and several letters he was carrying down upon it.

“Yeah, well I wasn’t. And stop trying to read my journal, mind your business.”

“I am minding my business;  _ you _ are my business. My god, you get so moody when you’re sick, I can’t imagine what you’d be like if you had something serious.”

“Maybe this is serious, you don’t know! But no, you just think it’s funny to scare the living daylights out of sick and dying men.” Albert waited a moment for him to finish blowing his nose before continuing.

“What I  _ think _ is that you’re on day three of a head cold you caught and you’ve no one to blame but yourself. No one made you dress down that deer in the rain without a coat.”

“Well if I waited until morning it would’ve started to turn!”

Batting the comment away with a hand, “Nothing I can’t hide with enough seasoning. Or are you still on this anti-salt and pepper brigade?”

Now muttering under his breath, “I’m just saying, if the meat’s fresh enough, it doesn’t need nothing fancy to be good.”

Shaking his head more out of amusement than frustration, Albert said, “I don’t know how you made it as far as you did without me.” He turned his attention to the pile of mail before him and began sorting it.

Arthur took the blanket off of his lap and stood up from the couch to come over. He noticed the subtle way Albert leaned away from him as he approached the table, no doubt an attempt to not catch whatever he had.

“Anything for me?”

“There are three letters from a ‘Tacitus Kilgore,’ all with different handwriting. I don’t know why you all insisted on using the same pseudonym. And why  _ that _ of all names?”

“We weren’t the smartest gang.”

He could tell who had sent them just by glancing at the handwriting: Mary-Beth, Pearson, and Miss Grimshaw. After the gang had fallen apart everyone had gone their separate ways, but Charles had managed to more or less track everyone down except Bill, Javier, and Strauss. An elaborate mail chain had sprung up around the former members in an attempt to keep in touch.

As he pulled up one of the chairs at the table to begin reading them he asked, “How was Blackwater?”

“Mostly empty, that wind coming off the lake keeps people inside this time of year. And of course I made my plea to the clerk to open up another office at Manzanita Post, but I fear my cries will go unheard yet again.”

“Don’t get yourself riled up again,” Arthur warned.

“I’m just saying, how can you call a place ‘Manzanita  _ Post _ ’ and not have a post office?”

Arthur ran his hand over his eyes, not wanting to have this conversation again. “It’s just a name, love.”

“Well it’s a misleading name! Do you have any idea how much time I would save if I could just walk three minutes up the road instead of riding two hours away every time I want to check the mail?”

“Take it up with the governor, start a petition.” He meant it as a joke, but after seeing the glint in Albert’s eyes he knew he had just set something into motion.

“You know, I just might do that. Getting back to your first question though, I didn’t see any of your posters around town. Haven’t for quite some time, but I understand if you want to wait a while longer before showing your face around there again.”

“I just think it’s the smart thing to do for a while longer.” While Albert sat down to go through his own letters, Arthur snuck a hand into the top of the box, assuming it was filled with goods Albert picked up from the general store. Blindly fishing around for any of those snacks Albert liked to buy and keep hidden for himself, he instead felt a small leather box of some sort. He removed it without Albert paying attention and inspected it. Pushing it open with his thumb, his heart stopped at the sight.

It was a wedding ring.

Taking a few extra seconds to process what he was seeing, he cleared his throat and asked, “What’s this?”

Albert looked up and his eyes went wide before he reached out and took it from Arthur’s hand. He quickly closed it and stuffed it in a pocket.

“You weren’t supposed to see that. It was meant to be a surprise, I’m sorry.”

“Al, is that…?”

He sighed. “Well cat’s out of the bag now I suppose. It’s for John.”

Arthur couldn’t explain the sudden but brief sense of disappointment that he felt.

“Well, actually it’s for Abigail, at least that’s what I’m assuming,” Albert continued. “He didn’t feel safe going into Blackwater to buy it so I offered to do it for him. I was going to give it to him when we went to their place for dinner this weekend.”

“Son of a bitch. He told you before he told me?” Still, he couldn’t fight back a smile as he thought more about it, “Well it’s about goddamn time!”

“You have to act surprised; I promised him I wouldn’t tell anyone. I think he’s going to ask her while we’re all there this weekend,” Albert stressed.

“Yeah, course I will.” He let his gaze linger at nothing in particular for a moment before sniffing and returning to opening Mary-Beth’s letter. Albert was studying him that whole time.

“Are you alright?” Arthur looked back up at him.

“Yeah. Why?”

“I just thought you would’ve been more excited at the news is all.”

Gesturing lazily with his hand, “I am, it’s just the, uh, the cold messin’ with my head.” Albert’s eyebrows pinched together briefly before shooting up.

“Did you think the ring was for you?”

He really hated being an open book to everyone around him.

“Oh, Arthur,” Albert sighed as he stood up and walked around to wrap his arms around from behind. In response, he raised a hand and squeezed Albert’s arm.

“For a second there, I kinda did, yeah.” He forced a laugh, but it felt hollow, and not just because he was sick. Albert reached into his pocket and removed the box so they could both look at the ring. It had a smooth silver band and a decent-sized diamond affixed on top of it.

“I don’t really think it’s your style though.”

“Guess not, now that I’m really looking at it.”

“You would look better with something simpler. And I definitely don’t think it would fit you.”

“Well let me try-” Albert snapped the lid shut when Arthur reached out for it.

Circling back around to his own chair, “Don’t touch it, I don’t want to risk Abigail catching what you have.”

“It ain’t like I got the plague.”

“So which is it, you’re on death’s door or it’s not that bad?” Caught in the contradiction, Arthur let him have his little victory and merely grunted before tearing open Mary-Beth’s envelope.

“Just leave me alone with my silly ideas.”

“It does seem silly, doesn’t it? Two grooms? Could you imagine?”

They chuckled before settling into a comfortable silence for several minutes, both getting absorbed into their mail. Neither of them had spoken for a while and Arthur was about to open the final envelope from Pearson when Albert’s words, spoken so softly he almost missed them at first, got his attention.

“I would though.” Albert looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “If we could...”

Arthur’s heart swelled as the gravity of the words registered with him.

“Me too.”

They left it at that and returned to their letters.

* * *

_ 5/2/01 _

_ [Sketch of Shady Belle. Parts of the front of the house are blackened. The caption reads, “Picked up a few things.”] _

* * *

There was an eerie stillness that hung over his one-time home that Arthur was finding unsettling. Even towards the end of the gang’s life when spirits were low and people avoided each other it was never  _ this _ quiet. It was a clear spring morning. But he could almost swear he could see ghosts of his old family flickering at the edges of his vision.

Facing the house from the main approach, the right side of the building still bore marks from where it had been burned and part of the second floor had collapsed. A destroyed pile of wood was identifiable as Pearson’s old wagon only because one of the wheels had somehow been spared in the inferno two years ago.

His plan wasn’t to linger here long anyway, but the general atmosphere spurred Arthur into getting a move on. 

He came alone; Albert was in Saint Denis preparing for his big gallery showing tomorrow. Over the past two years Albert had stepped up his efforts to get noticed by reaching out to various newspapers and academic journals. He had become something of a curious but well-liked figure in Blackwater, and Monsieur Laurent had seen fit to invite him back to the city, this time granting him the entire exhibition space for himself.

He had wanted to come along, but Arthur rebuffed him, not knowing exactly what he would find here and also not wanting to spend several hours while Albert photographed every nook and cranny of the old building.

Opting not to take the front entrance, Arthur circled around to the back, trying his best to peek through the windows from a safe distance. He couldn’t rule out the possibility that another gang or squatters or even Lemoyne Raiders had re-settled the place after the Van der Linde gang had vacated it. He readied his shotgun just in case and quietly pushed through the back door.

The corpse lying at the foot of the staircase informed him that leaving Albert behind was a good decision.

Arthur didn’t recognize the man who seemed to have taken a gunshot to the stomach, but whoever he was, he didn’t die recently. He strained his ears to listen for any telltale signs of danger, but all he could sense was the occasional groan coming from the house itself. Convinced that he wouldn’t have even made it that far if the place was actually inhabited, he pushed further in and stepped over the body.

The rear of the house seemed stable enough, at least compared to the front, but he still took each step up the stairs carefully, hoping to avoid placing his weight on a dilapidated piece of wood and falling through it. When he got to the top, he circled around the bannister and gently opened the door to his old room.

The multiple bedrolls strewn across the floor confirmed his suspicion that this house was lived in after his own gang had left the place. His best guess was that maybe four people were holed up in this room at one point. Who they were and where they were now, Arthur couldn’t say, but he could guess at least one of them was on the ground on the first floor. In-fighting maybe? Didn’t matter now. He slung his shotgun back over his shoulder and got to work.

Out of necessity squatters are resourceful, they take only what they need and can carry. What Arthur was looking for didn’t fall under the first category, so he hoped it was all still here. His old shaving stand was gone and the mirror was nowhere to be seen. All the ammo he had stockpiled in the room was predictably gone as well, but someone had even taken his old map for some reason.

Checking under the bedrolls he found what he was looking for.

The first photograph was lying face-down on the floor and one of the corners was folded over, but otherwise seemed to be in good condition. Arthur picked it up and turned it over to look at Copper, his old dog from many, many years ago.

_ I miss that boy. I wonder if Al would wanna get a dog? _

The second photo next to it was a mugshot of his father, Lyle Morgan. He didn’t spend as long looking at this one and merely tucked it under Copper’s photograph after inspecting it for damage. Finally about a minute later, after having to look under a separate bedroll and an old newspaper he found the third picture.

Arthur and Hosea were seated, Dutch standing between them. They looked so young there, and they were, but more ridiculous was how stone-faced and tough they were trying to look. Arthur remembered scowling at the poor photographer to put the fear of god in him and how the three of them broke out laughing at the man’s reaction once they exited the studio. They were simpler times and this was how he most liked to remember Dutch’s character.

He safely tucked away the mementos and continued overturning the room, stopping every so often to listen for any would-be unwelcome guests, but none came. He was about to give up and head back outside to Ivy when he thought to drop prone and search under the bed. Doing so, he found what he was looking for and reached under to grab it.

He brought himself up off the floor and sat on the miserable old mattress. In his hands he held a framed photograph of his mother, Beatrice Morgan. The glass shielding the front was broken and there was a slight tear in the edge of the photo, but maybe Albert would know a way to repair that. In any case, he would save it and put it in a new frame anyway, as it was the only thing left he had from his mother other than some fond memories that were too few for his liking, now so long ago they may as well have been someone else’s life.

He wiped the glass clean of dust and picked out a few loose shards before studying the face he was afraid he’d forgotten.

“Hey, mom.”

He wondered what she would’ve thought about him, how his life had turned out. Maybe she would’ve been disappointed that he had turned to crime like his father, or maybe she would’ve simply overlooked that fact; to the best of his understanding Lyle wasn’t exactly a saint when they had first met before Arthur was born. But there was also the fact that Arthur had managed to more or less turn his life around; he was still living under a fake identity and bent the law from time to time, but he wasn’t robbing and killing people anymore.

He wondered what she would have thought of Albert.

Knowing better than to fantasize about a scenario in which she survived and they got to meet, Arthur carefully tucked the frame into his satchel and forced himself to think about anything else. He kicked off from the bed and was riding Ivy back towards the city not two minutes later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you ever think about how Arthur would've been John's best man and then have to lie down for a while? Or is that just me?
> 
> I hope this change in writing style isn't too jarring. Obviously we're past the point of the main plot, but I never found the whole "and they lived happily ever after"/fade to black ending very satisfying. I just wanted to add in some vignettes at the end to show what I imagine their lives would've been like. Next chapter should be the final one and I'm real excited for you guys to read it.


	23. What else God is looking for

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vignettes from 1901 through 1904

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter of new content. If you see another chapter listed after this one, that's merely a collection of all of the journal entries and dated letters compiled into one place as well as a calendar depicting all of the events from the first twenty chapters.
> 
> Please enjoy.

_ 10/17/01 _

_ Can’t save ‘em all. _

_ [Sketch of a mountain lion stalking low to the ground in profile.] _

* * *

Albert had not spoken a word to him all morning and was in such a hurry to leave that Arthur was basically forced to tear down the camp by himself. They didn’t even take time to have breakfast before Albert was climbing on top of Penny and spurring her south, back home. Really the silent treatment had begun the night before, after Arthur had saved his life.

It was more complicated than that and he knew it, but Arthur was too mad to think about that right now.

The two men rode in silence with a healthy gap between them. One couldn’t be blamed for assuming that they weren’t traveling together at all, so much as they just happened to be going in the same direction. Unsurprisingly without distractions, and because of Albert’s unspoken decision to bypass Strawberry to pick up supplies like they had originally planned, they made better than normal time from Big Valley back to the house in Tall Trees. Arthur and Ivy were just pulling off the main road onto the property when he noticed Penny was already put away in the small stable next to the house they’d built earlier in the summer. He got there just in time to hear Albert slam the front door shut.

_ It’s gonna be one of  _ these _ days… _

Knowing he was only partially in the wrong and wanting to put off the impending fight for as long as possible, Arthur stabled Ivy and fed and brushed the two horses, no doubt taking longer than he normally would in stretching out the task they were deprived of that morning. When he finally summoned the will to enter the house it was eerily silent. Albert was nowhere to be seen on the first floor, which either meant he snuck out the back or was downstairs in his moonshine distillery-turned-photography studio.

Arthur took the steps down the stairs slowly and loudly, not wanting to sneak up and surprise Albert who was no doubt still in a foul mood. Startling him would earn Arthur no favors. He entered the section of the basement he was always told to stay out of and saw Albert in a dark corner under a single weak light bulb, already at work disassembling and cleaning his camera from the trip they had just returned from. Arthur stopped with his hands on his hips, outside of Albert’s swinging distance if it came down to that.

“You gonna let me explain myself?”

“I don’t know why you think that’s necessary; your actions have made it quite clear that you don’t respect my opinions. Why should I care to listen to yours?” Terse and biting in his tone. 

“At least you’re still around to have opinions!” Already Arthur was letting his temper flare, he couldn’t help it.

Completely deadpan in his delivery, “Yes, and I am eternally grateful for you saving my life yet again, can’t you tell?”

“What the hell was I supposed to do? That cougar was gonna kill you!” Albert slammed down the piece he was cleaning, hopefully one that wasn’t too fragile, and finally turned to face Arthur.

“You are undermining the entire purpose of my life’s work!”

“No, I was protecting you! Ain’t that the whole reason you ask me to come along on these trips?” Both men were fully shouting over each other at this point.

“Yes, but you didn’t have to shoot it like that! You mangled it, you  _ destroyed _ that beautiful and rare creature.”

“That’s what shotguns  _ do _ .”

“Funny, I don’t remember that happening when you shot at that bear outside Strawberry.”

“Oh, you mean that time I almost  _ died? _ That time I nearly bled out before you got me to a doctor? You wanted to do a repeat of  _ that? _ ”

“I merely wanted you to scare it away like I’d asked before we even went out.”

“And I told you then I couldn’t make any promises, remember that? Cougars ain’t the same as bears, once they’re out for blood like that there’s no time to scare ‘em off.”

“You didn’t even try!”

“You’re damn right I didn’t! That thing was two seconds away from clawing your throat out! Al, I didn’t have a choice.”

“You  _ always  _ have a choice.”

“Not when one of the options is watching you die.”

“Well I have to die someday, don’t I?”

The question knocked the wind out of Arthur. Momentarily, it also knocked the fight out of him.

Quietly, “What- What’re you saying?” Albert sighed.

“I’m saying…” He covered his eyes with his hand and exhaled, trying to calm down. “I’m just one man, Arthur. Men are everywhere, we’re not going anywhere anytime soon. But these creatures, they’re getting pushed into smaller and smaller areas until one day there won’t be any left. I’m trying to save them and instead I’m leaving a wake of  _ corpses _ behind these photographs between those wolves and that moose and now this cougar. The blood of those animals is on my hands as much as it’s on yours, and I feel like such a  _ hypocrite  _ at these galleries and talks that I give,” he said, all but spitting the word out of his mouth with disgust.

He was stunned that Albert had even mentioned the moose incident; they both swore never to speak of it again.

“You’re not just a man,” Arthur tried.

“Aren’t I? ...I’d be dead a dozen times over if it weren’t for you. And sometimes I wonder if more creatures wouldn’t be alive if that were the case.”

“Please don’t talk about my favorite person like that.” Albert made just the slightest eye roll, but it was there and Arthur caught it and he held onto that flicker of levity for dear life. “You’re not just a man,” he repeated, “Not to me you’re not. You’re someone who’s making a difference. I see the people who come to your speeches; you’ve come so far since that first one, sharing a room with two crappy artists.”

“Hey, I liked some of those sculptures…”

“You’re someone who gets their name in the newspaper for  _ good _ reasons. You’re getting people talking about something they wouldn’t’ve even thought about otherwise.”

“I’m hardly the only advocate fighting for wildlife in this country,” Albert dismissed.

“No, but you’re the only one who cares enough to get up close and personal with ‘em.” Albert leaned back, small of his back resting against the counter behind him as he tried to think of a rebuttal.

“Well... it’s true that most of my peers hail from far-away academic circles-“

“Who else is doing what you’re doing? Name someone.”

Albert paused, racking his mind for an answer, and, failing to find one, turned back to cleaning his equipment in frustrated defeat. Arthur precariously took a step closer and refrained from reaching out and touching the other man, even though he wanted to.

Whispering, “You scare the hell out of me sometimes, Al. The way you throw yourself at danger…”

“I know,” he softly replied. “I care about my work so much. But maybe it’s selfish of me to not consider how my actions affect  _ you _ .” Arthur sighed and tried to think of what to say next. This wasn’t the kind of fight he was good at ending.

“I’m sorry it shook out like that. Do you think you at least got a good picture out of it?”

It was Albert’s turn to sigh and calm down. “I believe so. Won’t know until I develop it. If it is gallery-worthy, I’ll just have to hope no one asks how I got out of that situation.”

“Just tell ‘em you used a big pile of bait to distract it.”

Albert huffed, “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“‘Cus that don’t always work. I got two nasty scars to prove it.”

“Hmm… You’ll have to show me sometime.”

Arthur closed the gap between them and rested his hands on Albert’s hips. Rather than tense up at the touch, Albert relaxed into it and leaned back into Arthur’s embrace, who placed a gentle kiss at the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“Me too.” They lingered in that position in silence, just listening to and feeling each other breathe for some time, before Albert continued, “You know what we could try next time?”

“What’s that?”

Albert freed himself from Arthur’s arms and reached forward into one of the shelves at his workstation, pulling out the latest Wheeler, Rawson, & Co. catalog. He flicked to a bookmarked page and pointed at one of the entries.

“There’s a new zoom lens that just hit the market I’ve been meaning to try out. I could take photos from four times the distance I can now with the same quality.” Arthur peered over his shoulder to look at the book.

“Does that day it’s  _ six hundred dollars? _ ”

“Aaand that’s why I don’t have one already.”

“The hell is it made out of,  _ diamonds? _ ”

Without missing a beat, “No, the diamond-encrusted model is actually twelve hundred. I agree though, I think six hundred is a little steep, I’d have a hard time justifying that.”

Arthur was  _ this _ close to letting slip a joke about how much the animals might appreciate it, but he held his tongue; it was still too soon. Instead he went with, “Well, Arthur Mason doesn’t have that kinda money, but I bet Arthur  _ Morgan _ can get it for you.”

Albert wheeled around to face him straight-on with a concerned face. “I’m not about to let you rob a boutique shop for a set of  _ camera lenses _ .”

Feigning offense, “Who said anything about robbing people? All I’m saying is that you’d be surprised at all the kinds of things that fall off the back of a delivery wagon.”

Albert’s eyes drifted away for a moment at nothing in particular, lost in thought, before snapping back to Arthur. “Do you think a new flash bulb would be the kind of thing that might… ‘fall off the back of a delivery wagon?’”

“You changed your tune  _ real _ quick,” Arthur replied with a smirk. Albert rose his chin in defiance, not wanting to take the accusation lying down.

“It’s for a good cause. Or so people keep telling me.”

Arthur shrugged, “I’ll keep an eye out, see what comes up.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

Albert held Arthur’s hands in his own and looked at him wistfully, also wanting to put the fight behind them. They embraced momentarily before he pulled back abruptly.

“Wait, what did I tell you about coming into my studio?”

“Not to do it?,” Arthur responded sheepishly.

“Precisely! I know how you are, you’re going to knock something delicate over then I’m going to have to send someone out to find a replacement that fell off a wagon.” There was an undercurrent of humor in his voice, but he did very much push Arthur some distance away, past an arbitrary border of the basement that he’d claimed as his own workspace.

“Alright, jeez, won’t happen again!”

Pointing at the ground, “If I had a door here, this would be the part where I’d slam it shut for effect.”

“Oh he wants a door now too,” Arthur huffed as he began walking towards the stairs to return to the first floor. He grumbled under his breath just loud enough for Albert to hear him, “How the hell is  _ that _ gonna fall off a wagon?” The small laugh he heard Albert give behind his back went a long way towards improving his mood for the rest of the day.

* * *

_ 6/10/02 _

_ Albert is supposed to be coming back from New York today. I think he was planning to take a stagecoach from Blackwater back home, but I’m going to surprise him and pick him up myself. _

_ Not too thrilled to be showing my face around that town, but I have missed him something fierce over the past three months. In any case it’s been three years since that awful day and the town has grown so much, I doubt I’ll be recognized. _

* * *

Seagulls chattered about overhead, hanging almost fixed in place against the overcast sky as they rode the wind coming off Flat Iron Lake. Even under the tree Arthur was leaning against the ground was still wet from the earlier rainstorm that had since passed. Behind him the construction for the new buildings around Blackwater City Hall had been halted for the day.

He scanned the horizon for what felt like the hundredth time in the past hour, no doubt coming across as paranoid or at least suspicious to anyone who might’ve been paying attention to him, but thankfully no one had approached him for questioning yet. However this time was different. Finally, far out into the lake he could make out a large ship, black smoke billowing out of its main stack. After watching it for a few more seconds he could determine that the ship was indeed approaching and it wasn’t a trick his eyes were playing on him.

Arthur’s heartbeat quickened.

He pushed off from the tree and patted off the dust that clung to his clothes from traveling across the plains and made his way closer to the docks, trying his best to avoid the puddles and patches of mud that had not yet dried. A small crowd of other people, likely awaiting their own loved ones, had begun to crowd the pier, so Arthur held back far enough to not get in anyone’s way. Instead he merely found a new spot to lean against and hid his face under his new flat cap.

Some fifteen minutes later the ship was secured to the dock and the narrow boarding platform was lowered. One by one passengers began disembarking, and the crowd strained over each other to see who they recognized. Occasionally someone would cry out a name and get a delighted reaction out of the person coming off the boat. Maybe halfway through this process, Arthur caught sight of Albert making his way into the docks.

He was awkwardly shuffling with one suitcase in front of him and one behind while simultaneously trying to maintain a conversation with the man walking down the platform behind him. He seemed to be in a good mood and seeing that smile for the first time in three months almost got Arthur misty-eyed as a sigh escaped him.

Albert wrapped up his conversation and walked to the edge of the docks where they met the first road of Blackwater proper. He looked around, probably searching for a coach to hire, but hadn’t noticed Arthur who approached him.

“Can I offer you a ride, sir?”

Albert turned to this newcomer and his face immediately lit up in surprise, but he played along with the ruse all the same. “How very kind of you! Yes, I need a ride to a place out in Tall Trees.”

They shook hands. They wanted to do so much more, but it wasn’t wise to attract attention, not with the throng of people behind them. They did linger on touching each other a beat longer than two strangers would, but that wasn’t a crime in and of itself.

For a moment they stood staring at each other before Albert snapped out of it and gestured to his two suitcases on the ground at either side of him. “Well, are you going to pick these up or not?”

“Oh you’re gonna be one of  _ these _ customers…” Arthur bent down and grabbed a suitcase in each hand, momentarily bringing his face extremely close to Albert’s upon straightening upright. It took a level of self control he didn’t know he possessed to not kiss him right there, but Albert’s familiar scent was intoxicating all the same after so much time.

“I promise I won’t be too difficult. And I’m sure I’ll find a way to tip you handsomely.” They began returning to the wagon Arthur had stored Ivy and Penny with near the north side of town. Albert continued, “So how long have you been a chauffeur, Mister…?”

“Mason.”

“Oh what a coincidence, that’s my name!”

“And I’ve been doing this for about a minute now.”

“A whole minute, you say? Fascinating. What has been your favorite part so far?”

“I guess the customers; been meeting some real handsome fellers.” 

Finally he gained the upper hand in this game as Albert simply blushed and looked at the ground, failing to come up with a retort of his own.

Now a good distance away from any passerby or pedestrians mulling about the town, Arthur led them to a spot beyond the northernmost house.

“Brought someone who’ll be happy to see you.”

Even though she was fixed to the wagon, Penny grunted and tried rearing up in excitement at the sight of the man who was equally enthused to see her.

“My girl! Oh my sweet girl, it has been too long. How have you been? Has this strange man been kind to you?”

Arthur chuckled to himself and loaded the two surprisingly heavy suitcases into the back of the wagon as Albert petted and cooed over Penny with that absurd voice he only used with her. After they were loaded up and they were ready to go, Arthur went to the right side of the cart and beckoned Albert over.

“I think we can drop the act now.”

“Oh, but I was having fun with that driver,” Albert pouted with mock disappointment.

“You can have fun with me too.”

“I’m well aware.”

Albert closed the gap between them and behind the safety of the wagon they embraced, mouths finding each other and fitting together perfectly like they had hundreds of times before. When they pulled away, Arthur rested their foreheads together, dizzy from the rush.

“Did you really have to leave for three months?”

“Well I hadn’t been back there in almost  _ three years _ . I was originally supposed to go back in the summer of ‘99, remember?” Arthur caught the way he said back  _ there _ and not back  _ home _ .

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Me too.”

“Let’s get you home.”

They climbed atop the bench at the front of the wagon and Arthur spurred the horses forward with a quick switch on their backs with the reins. Ivy was reluctant at first, she always hated being tied up like a draft horse like this, but she soon followed Penny’s lead and they all were out of Blackwater proper in just two or three minutes.

“So what is this on your head?,” Albert asked while playfully flicking the brim of Arthur’s flat cap.

“It’s my new ‘going into Blackwater’ hat.”

“It looks good on you. I miss your old one though.”

“It’s back home, just didn’t wanna wear it into town.”

“This is kind of a low-effort disguise though, don’t you think?”

“Originally I was gonna wear a wig and dress, but I decided against it, felt this way more tasteful,” Arthur replied sarcastically.

“Well if ‘Margaret’ could do it, I don’t see why you can’t!” Albert laughed at his own joke, but Arthur was confused.

“Wait, who the hell is ‘Margaret’?”

“Don’t you remember? That odd fellow we met going on about his circus animals? Tried roping you into getting back his ‘zebra.’”

“That’s right,” he chuckled. “God, that was a long time ago.”

“We’ve known each other quite some time now, yes.”

Once they were truly out on the plains, Arthur scanned the sky and was met with more overcast clouds, but nothing that threatened to become a downpour like earlier. They should make good time.

“So how was everyone?,” he asked.

“Doing well! My nieces and nephews have gotten so big, and were stunned by all the pictures I brought with me. Didn’t hurt that I also had some newspaper clippings and old flyers from past exhibitions to show that I’m actually doing something out here.”

“They don’t think you’ve been doing anything for the past three years?,” Arthur questioned with an air of concern.

“Well remember, my family is all working-class city dwellers, most of them have never even seen a mountain or any wildlife more exotic than a hawk. There was very much a, ‘let him go and get it out of his system’ attitude towards my coming to this part of the country.”

“They don’t sound too supportive,” he observed.

“Maybe at first they weren’t, but hopefully they’ll come around. There was an episode where I talked my mother out of buying an ivory comb, that’s gotta count for something, right?”

“I guess. What’d they make of you buying property out here?”

“I think that’s what finally drove home to them that this is my life’s passion. My brothers don’t fully understand it, but they’re just glad that I seem happy. My mother is… more concerned that I’m out here alone, but I explained that I’ve made friends and that I was living with an assistant.”

“An  _ assistant?! _ ”

“I may have left out some details, and I only shared one picture of you, but I’m certain she pieced something together. It is my firm belief that mothers have an innate ability to guess their children’s secrets with frightening accuracy. I didn’t feel any further explanations were necessary.”

Arthur let his thoughts wander to Beatrice Morgan for only a moment before snapping his attention back to the road.

Albert changed the subject with, “So how have you been spending your time?” Arthur cleared his throat.

“First two weeks I went over to the Marstons’ place every day until John all but threw me off his property for ‘smotherin’ him.’ Let Uncle stay over for company, that lasted about two days before I kicked  _ him _ out. Last month Charles stayed at the house for about a week and that was nice, but other than that I’ve just been bored outta my mind.”

Albert unsuccessfully tried stifling a yawn. Not necessarily at Arthur talking, he had an overall fatigued look about him. The fact that he didn’t ask any follow-up questions was telling.

“You tired?” By Arthur’s best guess it was only about 3 PM in the afternoon.

“I am, yes. All this travel and lack of sleep is starting to catch up with me I suppose. My train came into Saint Denis late last night and that ferry left the city at  _ 6 AM _ this morning. I should’ve scheduled that better rather than taking the cheapest option.”

“Well we don’t gotta keep talking if you wanna rest up for a bit.”

“No, you keep talking. I’ll listen, I promise. I miss hearing your voice.” Arthur smiled at that.

“Alright… You’ll get a kick out of this; met a woman last month, a lady scientist. Said she was looking for dinosaur bones…”

Arthur kept up the one-sided conversation surprisingly well. At first it was a struggle for Albert to keep his eyes open, and towards the end of their journey he was fully leaning into his driver while resting his eyes, affirmative grunts that he was still listening no longer forthcoming.

He snapped awake upon feeling the wagon climb the gentle incline off the road and onto their property. He was sluggish at first, but still helped detach the horses and bring them into the stable. Albert unlocked and opened the front door and Arthur followed after, carrying in the two suitcases.

“Welcome back. Sorry I didn’t get a chance to-“ 

Arthur’s words were cut off as Albert slammed him back against the door, bodies pressed together, hands roaming under his shirt urgently and lips locked in a surprising kiss that Arthur was only too eager to return. After Albert had traveled down and began sucking on Arthur’s neck he let out an involuntary moan before laughing.

“I thought you were tired?” He could feel Albert smiling against his neck.

“Oh, I am  _ exhausted _ . We’ll have to hurry up before I pass out on you.”

“Do you wanna just wait until later?”

“I’ve waited long enough for this,” he answered, voice dripping with lust. This was that more carnal side of Albert that didn’t come out too often, but it excited Arthur all the same.

Buttons and suspenders were hastily being undone. Hats knocked to the ground, luggage forgotten. Albert was about to begin fumbling with his belt buckle when he paused.

“Do… do  _ you _ want me to stop?”

“Don’t you dare,” Arthur growled. Albert grinned.

“That’s what I thought.”

* * *

_ 2/15/03 _

_ [Sketch of the house covered in snow. Caption reads “Lazy Sunday”.] _

* * *

The house creaked and groaned like a wounded animal all through the night. Out of sheer habit Arthur woke up early, but the storm was still raging outside and there was barely any light filtering through both the clouds and the window into the room.

This was easily the worst weather they’d had since moving into the house. Winter in West Elizabeth was usually mild, maybe the occasional dusting or windstorm, but nothing like this. All through the night they had heard branches and even entire tree trunks twist and snap outside, but luckily none of them landed on the roof, at least not yet.

Arthur pulled over his head both of the blankets he was buried under, desperate to get in a few more winks, but he knew he was up for the day now; he could never fall back asleep once his body decided it was time to get up. He began running a mental list of what he needed to do today. Obviously checking up on the horses was the first thing. The stable should be warm enough, but no doubt they’d be spooked and need soothing. He should give the well a few pumps to make sure it didn’t freeze up. Maybe bring in a few more logs of firewood from the front porch to keep them dry. Should probably get up onto the roof and shovel some of the snow off the parts that tended to leak, but they didn’t have a ladder. Maybe he could throw a lasso up over the chimney and use that to climb up the side? No, that was a ridiculous idea. They had some food left over from Albert’s last run to the general store, but maybe he should go for a quick hunt to see what he can track down in the fresh snow once the wind died down. Couldn’t hurt to run over to Beecher’s Hope to see how the Marstons had made out. Then there was-

All his thoughts came to a halt as he felt a weight in the bed shift behind him and an arm slink around his side, a hand palming his chest. Albert gave him a silent kiss on his back before curling tight around him. Arthur has been struggling to keep warm under the covers, but now it was almost too toasty with the waves of body heat coming off of the other man in the bed.

He relaxed into the embrace.

The horses could wait for a few more minutes.

* * *

_ 10/4/03 _

_ Sadie wrote to us, telling us she would be staying here for a few weeks. It was more of a warning than a request, which has me worried. Especially since she has been quiet for the past few months. No one knows where she’s been. _

_ Albert is thrilled to have company, of course, but part of me wonders if she is trying to lie low from someone she pissed off. _

_ I hope she does not bring trouble with her. _

* * *

The trio relaxed on the front porch for a post-dinner chat, Arthur and Albert seated on the bench and Sadie mindlessly swinging on one of the new rocking chairs they’d bought recently. At Albert’s feet Lily was splayed out and resting, absolutely dog-tired after playing with their new guest while the men had prepared dinner. Albert bent forward and affectionately scratched the black lab behind her ear.

“I’m glad she warmed up to you so quickly. We don’t have too many guests over besides the Marstons.”

“Oh, she’s a big ol’ sweetheart.”

“Yeah, and a piss-poor guard dog,” Arthur commented with feigned disappointment.

“Sadie, don’t let him fool you, he spoils this dog rotten. And if nothing else she makes for an excellent fishing companion.”

“I was meaning to say, that trout was pretty good, did you really catch that yourself?,” she questioned.

“That I did,” he replied, beaming with pride, “Just off the Lower Montana. Gave me a devil of a time, too. Do you fish?”

“Nah, I never had the patience for something like that.”

“You don’t have a patient bone in your body,” Arthur chuckled.

“Al, hit him for me will ya?” Albert gave him just a playful slap on the leg with a  _ be nice to our guest _ look in his eyes and Sadie continued, “Seems Arthur’s turned you into a real mountain man.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far. Though I’m certainly less helpless than I was before I met him.” He took a moment to look at and appreciate the man sitting to his right before continuing, “No, my main passions are still photography and conservation, and river trout aren’t exactly endangered.”

“Why don’t you show her those new pictures you took up at Owanjila a couple of weeks ago?”

“That’s a good idea! They’re buried somewhere in that mess of a basement, hopefully I can find them while the sun’s still up. Excuse me for a few minutes.”

Albert rose from the bench and entered the house, leaving Arthur and Sadie alone on the front porch for the first time since she arrived that morning. The sky was already beginning to bleed into golds and pinks, signaling that the sun would be slipping past the horizon behind the house in another half hour or so.

“I like what you’ve done with the place. Been a while since I was last here.”

Completely ignoring the comment, Arthur plainly asked, “What are you doing here?” To her credit, Sadie did not flinch at the directness of the question.

“I’m just visiting my two boys I haven’t seen in quite some time.”

“Is that all this is? A social call out of the blue?” She met his piercing gaze and returned it with her own. Deciding it wasn’t worth contesting, she relented.

“Well maybe I decided it weren’t wise to show my face around certain parts for a bit.”

“Who’re you laying low from? I’ll help you, Sadie, but I don’t want you getting Al dragged into anything.”

She let her genuine offense flair for a moment. “I weren’t followed here. I wouldn’t do that to you boys. Besides, there’s nothing the two of us together can’t handle.”

Arthur wasn’t sure about that. His firearms were almost exclusively used for hunting game at this point, he hadn’t aimed a weapon at another person in years, let alone shot at one.

He looked away, out at nothing in particular in the woods, “I think my runnin’ and gunnin’ years are behind me.”

“You gone soft, Morgan?” He could tell she was just teasing him, but he couldn’t find humor in it.

“I ain’t shot anyone in a long time and I wanna keep it that way. Sure, I’m always armed and I worry one day some young feller will show up on my doorstep, saying I killed his daddy years ago and looking for revenge, but I don’t wanna live that life anymore.”

“That’s fair,” she admitted. “You got something to lose now. But even though you may be outta practice, there’s no one else I’d want watching my back in a fight.”

“Is that what this is? You’re asking me to do one last job or something?”

Sadie took a sip of the tea Albert had brewed for all of them and cast a serious glance at Arthur. “You don’t read the papers much, do you?” He scoffed at that.

“I let Al tell me all the important stuff: big stories, who to vote for, who died, that kinda thing.”

“Oh you’re a votin’ man now?,” she teased.

“Shut up,” was the best he could come up with. He could scarcely believe it himself.

“Well it sounds to me like Al missed a big story, or at least didn’t think to tell it to you.”

“And what might that be?”

She reached into one of her shirt pockets and dug out a newspaper clipping that she held out. Arthur leaned forward and gingerly took it from her hands, noting how worn and smoothed at the edges it was. It didn’t seem old, so much as Sadie had handled it frequently.

_ END OF THE IRISH TERROR? _

_ Notorious gang leader Colm O’Driscoll has been confirmed dead by the Valentine sheriff’s office. In a grisly spectacle, his body and severed head were discovered just outside the livestock town. Pinkertons denied responsibility and no bounty was collected, indicating that it was likely to be a result of in-fighting among gang members. Local authorities are cautiously optimistic that his death will result in the dissolution of the criminal enterprise, responsible for scores of deaths and robberies stretching back to the 1880’s, but are aware of the possibility that a new leader may emerge. Citizens are urged to avoid the highly dangerous members of the O’Driscoll gang, but if they have any information about the gang’s whereabouts, they are invited to share it with the Valentine sheriff’s office which can be reached at the following address: _

“Bullshit.” Sadie merely raised her eyebrows and smiled, but said nothing. “No way you took out Colm by yourself.”

“I never claimed  _ nothing _ , that’s all on you.”

He looked down and skimmed the article again before turning back to her, “How did you do it?”

Feigning ignorance, “Do what?”

“Don’t you play coy with me. If you’re gonna be staying with us, I’m gonna get this story out of you.”

“Well you can start by being nice to me and asking politely.”

He shook his head and grinned, but complied anyway. “Mrs. Adler. Would you kindly tell me how you killed a powerful gang leader?”

“I may… in due time.” She relished in making Arthur beg like this, sitting on what was no doubt one hell of a story.

“I  _ eagerly _ await your response.” He leaned forward again to pass the clipping back to her, and she likewise came forward to take it from him.

“I will tell you one thing though.”

“What’s that?”

“It was with a knife,” she whispered before tucking the article back where she stored it in her front pocket.

Even at their peak, the Van der Linde gang was never half as large as the O’Driscoll Boys. Colm was always surrounded by his men and had multiple hideouts across New Hanover and Ambarino.

_ How the  _ hell _ did she get close enough to use a knife? _

A flurry of new questions swirled around in Arthur’s head but before he could think of which one to ask first Albert exited from the front door, a box containing stacks of photographs in hand.

“I couldn’t find them, but I know they’re in this box somewhere so I just grabbed the whole thing. Funny, I also found some old shots from the Marstons’ wedding I never gave to Abigail.”

“What a fun day that was. Let’s take a trip down memory lane then, what do you say, Arthur?” He gave her a look that said  _ we’re not done talking about this _ , but didn’t want to sour the mood in front of Albert. Instead he just elected to give her a fake smile that went unnoticed by the photographer.

“Sure.”

* * *

_ 8/12/04 _

_ [Sketch of Albert swinging an axe over his head, chopping firewood.] _

* * *

Arthur put on a few finishing touches to the sketch before inspecting it. Damn near half this book was just sketches of the man, but he always found the exercise relaxing, therapeutic even, and he could put Albert’s likeness to paper faster than anything else. He noted with a frown that he only had about three or four blank pages left before closing the journal and putting it to his side. He’d have to get a new one soon.

He got back to the task he should’ve been doing, skinning some potatoes for tonight’s stew. About thirty feet away Albert was splitting some logs on the stump with practiced form, a far cry from when they moved to this house. The first time he tried swinging an axe Arthur laughed so hard he couldn’t breathe for a full minute. Albert had come a long way, but Arthur never stopped giving him hell about that first time.

And while he enjoyed reminiscing on the memory, Arthur couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching him.

He looked up and locked eyes with Lily, still as a statue and staring him down with pleading eyes. After making sure Albert wasn’t watching, he carved a large portion of skin off the potato in his hands and tossed it to her. She practically inhaled it before resuming her silent request.

“Slow down, girl, you gotta enjoy it,” he whispered, slicing a new piece of skin. He tossed it to her and her jaw snapped loudly as she caught it.

“Arthur, are you feeding her?”

_ Damn. Got caught again. _

“She’s gotta eat too, no?”

“She’s going to get fat!,” he complained.

“They’re just tater skins. Why don’t you go back to… whatever it is you’re doing over there,” mocking swinging an axe around his head. Albert cocked an eyebrow.

“Do you have a comment to make?”

“Me? Naw, I think you’re doing great,” he replied with a grin. Albert propped a foot up on the stump and rested the head of the axe next to it.

“Why don’t you lay your neck down right here? I’ll show you how good my technique  _ really _ is.”

Arthur chuckled, “Maybe after dinner, love.”

Albert rolled his eyes and began collecting the split logs around his feet. Arthur was just about finished with skinning everything when he came over and dropped them all on the porch in a messy pile. He watched as Albert straightened up and ran the back of his forearm, swollen from activity, across the sweat on his forehead. Albert had put on a fair amount of muscle over the years since moving out of the city and it looked good on him, even if he was too humble to admit it. There was also a streak of gray in his beard, something of a more recent development, that Albert was likewise firmly in denial over.

“Would you mind stacking these properly? I need to get some work done downstairs.”

“You want me to pile the wood  _ and _ cook? What’re you so busy doing?”

“I want to go over my portfolio again before we leave for Denver.”

“We’re not leaving for a week,” Arthur pointed out.

“I know, but this is going to be the biggest speech I’ve ever given! And I’m hearing rumors that President Roosevelt will be at this convention. I’m nervous about this one.”

“You’ll be fine, Al. But yeah, I’ll get to that in a little bit.”

Albert ran a hand through his hair to calm down and not stress out about the impending journey they would be taking. Instead he looked down and pet Lily on the head, “You’re gonna be good for Aunt Sadie next week, won’t you?” She was more interested in sniffing and licking his hand for more potential food than answering the question.

Arthur tossed the last peeled potato into the wicker basket at his feet and stood up to bring it inside. “You think  _ I _ spoil her? We’re gonna come back and she’ll be twice this size.”

“I certainly hope not. It was nice of Sadie to offer to watch the place while we’re gone though. Where is she living now?”

“Who knows? She’s always moving around. She can’t never sit still for too long.”

The three of them came inside and Arthur began getting the stew going while Albert rang out a wet towel over the wash basin and dabbed down his face and hands.

“I’ll be in the basement if you need me. And today is the twelfth, correct?”

“Yeah; that’s the third time today you’ve asked that, what’re you so worried about?”

“I, um… I wanted to do something late tonight, if you’re free.”

Voice dripping with sarcasm, “Well I am positively  _ bedeviled _ with appointments, but I suppose I could make time for you.”

Albert matched his energy with, “How very kind of you. Let me know when the food’s ready.” As he went into the basement to prepare his speech, Arthur let the stew come to a slow simmer and sorted the new logs on the front porch into a neat pile. Finishing that, he figured he had some time to kill. He went to the bookcase at the far side of the room and browsed the one shelf out of six that Albert “let” him use. He grabbed the latest  _ Aldous Filson  _ mystery and settled in on the couch.

Later, Albert re-emerged from the basement and they shared a meal talking about the upcoming trip. While he was nervous about giving a speech at a national symposium about conservation, he was also excited to see Mary again after such a long time. She had settled down in Denver some two years ago and through her near-constant letters with Albert she’d agreed to let them stay with her while they were in town.

* * *

Arthur was doing some light reading before turning in for the night when Albert appeared at the doorway of their bedroom wearing his riding boots.

“Are you ready?”

Albert raised an eyebrow from the bed he was sitting in. “What for?”

“I wanna go for a ride.”

“You were serious about that?”

“Of course I was!”

“This late? There some kind of night critter you wanna track down?”

“In a sense.” Seeing Arthur was firmly rooted in place and skeptical, Albert relented and explained, “There’s supposed to be a meteor shower tonight. The Almanac said it would be strongest in about two hours.”

They’d seen dozens of falling stars over the years during their various trips and nights out in the wilderness, and it was something Arthur had always taken for granted, spending most nights outdoors. But he loved the way Albert’s face always lit up with excitement upon seeing one. City folk didn’t grow up seeing them every night with all the light pollution, Arthur figured.

“Alright, but why do we gotta ride?,” Arthur questioned even as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and began preparing to leave.

“We have too many trees overhanging the house; thought we’d have better luck on the plains.”

“You wanna go to John’s?”

“Not quite that far, we’ll be back here before the end of the night.”

Outside the night air was crisp on account of the cooling effect of the forest, but it would be warmer once they broke out onto the plains proper. Ivy and Penny were both irked to be saddled up and driven out of their stable so late at night, but their protestations eased once they all got moving. They traveled east as if they were heading into Blackwater, but Albert led them off the road before they were close enough to see the lights of the distant town. He brought them into an expanse of gently rolling hills and golden grasses where the sky was open so wide it felt as if one might get sucked up into it. There was barely a cloud in sight and the slim crescent of the moon gave more leeway for the stars spilled across the sky to shine even brighter.

“I think this is a good spot,” Albert announced as he dismounted. Arthur likewise followed and they walked some distance away from the moody horses, looking upwards. “Oh! There’s one now!,” he pointed out.

Sure enough, a streak of light briefly flitted across the sky. It didn’t take long for them to spot another, and then a third.

“Certainly seem to be a lot of ‘em.”

“The Almanac suggested that there could be up to a hundred in an hour,” Albert explained.

“This is really something else. But why were you being so secretive about it?” Albert shrugged.

“I wanted it to be a surprise. It’s nice to get out and do something out of the ordinary every now and again, don’t you agree?”

“So long as there’s no blood-thirsty animals we gotta deal with, sure,” Arthur responded, scanning the area for good measure, but failing to find anything of concern.

“You’re such a spoilsport.” After catching two or three more falling stars, Albert continued in a lower voice, “There is something else I’d like to do if you’ll let me wax sentimental for a moment.”

This was nothing new to Arthur; some nights Albert got weepy and gushed about their relationship and their lives together. Usually there was a good deal of alcohol before he got to this point, but apparently not tonight.

“Be my guest,” he said in a warm voice.

“Well it’s been about five years now since you saved my career from that coyote. Then you saved my life from that pack of wolves. Then you put me in mortal danger from driving a herd of bison towards me…”

“Again, I didn’t mean to-”

Albert interrupted him with a raised finger, “But you soon made up for it by saving me once again from that monstrous bear.”

“You kinda saved  _ my _ life that time…”

“Then there were a series of other harrowing events that I’m sure you remember all too well and I won’t get into. The point I’m trying to make is… Our lives are very much intertwined at this point as I’m sure you’ll agree-”

“I do.”

“And I just wanted to let you know that I would do it all again if I knew it would mean I would end up here with you every time.”

Raising an eyebrow, “You’d go through getting kidnapped by Micah again?”

“Well I’d try to avoid it the second time around,” Albert replied with a cheeky smile.

Arthur intentionally forced himself not to dwell on what-if scenarios all his life; he’d drive himself crazy if he imagined how all of his regrets could have played out differently. But it sounded like Albert had no such qualms on the matter. There was one thing Arthur knew for certain however.

“There are plenty of things I would change too if I could. But you wouldn’t be one of them.”

They spent several minutes afterwards looking at the sky which seemed to be truly picking up with activity. Arthur was focusing hard, trying to study exactly how a meteor looked so he could render it accurately in a sketch later when his attention was brought back down to earth by Albert’s voice.

“We had a very silly conversation once, some time back. And I was wondering if I could ask you a very silly question.”

Arthur brought his eyes back down and started with a snarky response, “I sure as hell ain’t gonna stop-” 

The ironic thing is that’s exactly what Arthur did. The quip died at the back of his throat at the sudden appearance of a ring in Albert’s upturned palm. It was just a simple gold band, nothing fancy, but it spoke volumes all the same. Albert took a deep breath to steady himself, much in the same way Arthur had seen him do many a time before a big speech he was about to give.

“You have been the source of so much happiness ever since I met you. And I know how you view yourself and your past, but I promise you that, at least in my eyes, you have put more good into the world than you’ve taken out of it. And you have given me a life that I didn’t think a man like me could ever have. I don’t ever want to lose this.”

Arthur’s throat hitched with emotion and he couldn’t have spoken even if he knew what he wanted to say. He did nothing as Albert gently held his hand with his left and displayed the ring with his right.

“I know no pastor would have a sermon for us and my mother may never know you, but if the life we’ve built and the love we share isn’t already a marriage, then I don’t know what else God is looking for,” he said as a laugh escaped both of them behind glassy eyes. “So I suppose a simpler question to ask would be: Arthur Morgan, would you like to spend the rest of your life with me?”

Arthur Morgan was not a good man. He did not deserve good things. Yet the universe seemed intent on proving him wrong about that with every day Albert stayed at his side.

When he could finally form thoughts and sentences again, the best he could come up with was, “Me?... You want  _ me _ to…”

Albert looked around as if to emphasize the fact that there was no one else he could possibly be speaking to. “Well I suppose I could ask the next person who comes down the road, but I’d really rather it be you, yes.”

“I… yes. Yes, of course!”

Beaming with delight and relief, Albert released the exhale he’d been holding before gently fitting the ring onto Arthur’s finger. They held hands and stared deeply into each others’ eyes laughing. Arthur was about to pull him close when Albert continued speaking, “Now I know what you’re thinking: why would two men living alone together at the edge of civilization be wearing matching wedding bands?”

Softly, “Al-”

“Obviously we’re both widowers. You see l lost my poor Hannah back in ‘98 when she tragically-”

More forcefully, “Al!” He stopped and looked at Arthur, already knowing what he’d say.

“Yes?”

“Sometimes you talk too much.”

“...this is one of those times, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Arthur chuckled. Albert likewise glanced at the ground, momentarily embarrassed before flicking his eyes back up to Arthur’s with that same daring glint they had a long ago on a summer day at the edge of a secluded fishing hole.

“Well you should probably shut me up then.”

Arthur gladly obliged, bringing their faces together in a fluid motion they’d rehearsed thousands of times before. Palming a hand across Albert’s back to pull him closer, Arthur was now cognizant of the new feel of the ring. It was merely a small piece of metal, but it made him feel like he could take on the world. In that moment they were absorbed into their own blissful little universe, oblivious to the spectacle playing out above their heads in celebration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of Albert's final lines is shamelessly adapted from this random tumblr text post I came across before even thinking about writing this fic, and it would be remiss of me to not source it: https://maybecowboycore.tumblr.com/post/189537366340
> 
> I debated including one final vignette at the end with the boys going to Denver and seeing Mary, but decided against it, not wanting to take away from the ending I settled on. Know that Mary absolutely would've clocked them wearing matching wedding bands though.
> 
> Also, August 12, 1904 was the night after a new moon, the Perseids meteor shower peaks most years between the eleventh and thirteenth of August and Theodore Roosevelt was in fact president in 1904 #didtheresearch
> 
> If you made it this far, thank so much for slogging through this massive piece of therapy I wrote (because let's be frank, the canon story is a borderline traumatic experience), and I hope it was as fun to read as it was to write. Leave a comment and let me know what you liked and didn't like; this was my first attempt at writing fiction like this and while I enjoyed doing it, I realize there's always room for improvement, especially if I plan to undertake something like this again.


	24. Entries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A collection of journal entries and dated letters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Below is a collection of all of Arthur's journal entries and dated letters that appeared in this work and at the bottom I included a calendar of the four in-fiction months that this story took place over to kind of place everything in relation to each other to show how hectic things got towards the end. Sure, this may seem like an attempt to pad my overall word count by recycling content, but it was something I knew I wanted to do from the start anyway. Personal thoughts are in the end notes.

_ 5/30/99 _

_ Guess Billy Midnight never escaped his past. Guy was deranged about shooting some fella in the back or in their sleep or something. Anyway, guilt had consumed him, so like a real proper gentleman, he tried to kill me. _

_ Later, saw Albert Mason in the swamps. Seemed obsessed by getting eaten by alligators this time. Again, he managed to survive much more by luck than by judgment. At least he bought me a round of drinks this time. _

_ [Sketch of Albert with his camera in the boat.] _

* * *

_ 5/30/1899 _

_ Arthur, _

_ I hope this letter finds you well. I had a wonderful day in the swamp (a sentence I never thought I'd write) and those pictures of the alligators came out better than I had hoped. All thanks to you. Consider the attached picture from our previous encounter as a gesture of my appreciation. _

_ I wanted to inform you that I may find myself up your way again soon. One week from the date of this letter I am planning on traveling up to the Heartlands, east of Flatneck Station, to look for roaming herds of bison. If you're available, I'd like to see you. Just keep an eye out for a fool with a tripod trying not to get gored or trampled by the great beasts. _

_ Sincerely, _ _   
_ _ A.M. _

* * *

_ 6/6/99 _

_ Saw Albert out in the plains today. Trying to get some shots of bison this time. I tried helping him out, and ended up almost killing him in the process. He said not to worry about it. _

_ I think his money issue is settled. _

_ [Sketch of a herd of bison with a rock formation in the background.] _

* * *

_ 6/7/1899 _

_ Arthur, _

_ And here I thought  _ _ I _ _ was stubborn! _

_ You truly did not need to do that, but I suppose the deed is done. If it would not have taken a considerable amount of effort for me to track you down and force that money back into your hand, I would have. Instead, I elected to pay off that debt with Mr. Strauss and wipe my hands clean of him before he sent some hired muscle my way. _

_ I owe you tremendously and I promise I will find a way to repay you eventually. _

_ In the meantime, I am planning another excursion, my farthest and longest one yet! Ten days from the date of this letter I will be in Strawberry getting supplies before heading west for a few days. If you're available, I'd like to see you and maybe even ask for your company on this trip if you could spare the time. _

_ The irony of promising to repay you and then asking another favor in the same letter is not lost on me. _

_ Sincerely, _ _   
_ _ A.M. _

_ P.S. _

_ Please find the best two photos out of several I took that day in Lemoyne. The action shot is my favorite. When I asked you to get out of the boat I was only joking, I didn't think you'd actually do it! _

* * *

_ 6/17/99 _

_ Saw Micah yesterday in a jail cell in Strawberry. Crazy bastard actually expected me to help him escape in broad daylight. I don’t know what Dutch sees in him, but I gotta figure something out before he hangs. _

_ [Sketch of the Strawberry Sheriff’s office. A figure is peering through the bars.] _

_ In the meantime I’m helping Albert track down a bear. Maybe one will eat me and I won’t have to worry about Micah no more. _

_ [Sketch of Albert at his tripod, overlooking a river in the woods.] _

* * *

_ 6/20/99 _

_ [Sketch Albert at his tripod, looking into a meadow.] _

_ Finally found a bear for Albert. Biggest one I’ve ever seen. Damned thing almost killed me, but Al saved my life. Got me to a doctor and we’ve been in Strawberry for a few days now. Think we’re leaving tomorrow. _

_ Micah got out of jail somehow and it wasn’t because of me. Dutch is gonna be mad. _

_ BATTLE OF HORSESHOE OVERLOOK _

_ Agents working with the Pinkerton Detective Agency recently received a tip that the notorious Van der Linde gang had settled into a wooded area just outside of Valentine known to locals as Horseshoe Overlook. The gang is wanted for a litany of crimes, most notably for their involvement in the seizure of a large quantity of banknotes transported by ship in Blackwater, West Elizabeth earlier this year. _

_ The security agents, led by Agent Andrew Milton, attempted to apprehend the gang and secure a nighttime surrender by surrounding the perimeter of the camp, but their offer was rebuffed and met with immediate and terrible violence. Over the better course of an hour the two sides exchanged gunfire in darkness before the agents were forced to retreat under heavy casualties. Casualties sustained by the gang members are unknown at this time. By the time local authorities were brought in to assist, the gang had cleared out and were last seen heading east. _

_ Civilians are encouraged to approach either local authorities or members of the Pinkerton Detective Agency if they have any information on the Van der Linde gang's current whereabouts, but are advised to maintain a safe distance from the extremely dangerous individuals. _

* * *

_ 6/23/99 _

_ Guess we were up in that hotel longer than I thought. Camp was empty when I got there. Apparently Pinkertons found them while I was gone and they had to run again. Hope no one got hurt. I’m gonna try looking for them by Annesburg, maybe they went into the hills. _

_ [A newspaper cutout titled “BATTLE OF HORSESHOE OVERLOOK” is tucked into the page. _

* * *

_ 6/27/99 _

_ Still haven’t found the rest of the gang, but haven’t seen any mention of them in the papers either. Just gotta keep looking. _

_ Ran into Mary Linton in Saint Denis today while I was visiting Albert. Like seeing someone from a past life. She asked for help with her father and I told her no. Later I thought maybe I’d been too rude towards her, but it’s too late now. _

_ [Sketch of the Hôtel la Licorne] _

* * *

_ 6/28/99 _

_ Found Charles out in Scarlet Meadows, and he took me back to the gang, in some new spot called Clemens Point. It’s right on the lake. Warm, too. _

_ Micah’s spreading rumors that I sold them out to the Pinkertons, and Dutch almost believed him. I cannot stand that man. _

* * *

_ 7/3/99 _

_ I had a wonderful day with Albert yesterday. _

* * *

_ 7/5/99 _

_ Spent yesterday in St. Denis with Albert. Never cared much for the holiday, but the fireworks were entertaining at least. _

_ [Sketch of a truss bridge spanning a river. There are dozens of small figures on it and explosions in the sky.] _

* * *

_ 7/7/99 _

_ Went swimming with Albert yesterday at a small lake outside Van Horn. Reminded me of being a kid again. The better days, at least. _

_ [Sketch of a lake with a waterfall flowing into it.] _

* * *

_ 7/11/99 _

_ Saw an old church, found it interesting. Not sure why. Pretty sure Albert took a picture of every damn stone of the place. _

_ [Sketch of a dilapidated building adorned with a bell and a cross] _

* * *

_ 7/14/99 _

_ Went to Albert’s gallery showing yesterday. Never did feel much comfortable in fancy clothes or places like that but he was happy to see me there and that’s all that mattered.  _

_ Mary showed up. Apparently they’ve been talking and becoming friends, unbeknownst to me. She did not seem upset with me with how our last meeting went, which was relieving to me because I would like to stay friends. But  _ _ only _ _ friends. I cannot go breaking her heart again and I’m not sure I could truly give mine to her at the moment. It might belong to another. _

* * *

_ 7/16/99 _

_ We’re supposed to do that train job tonight that John’s been getting ready for. It does seem old fashioned, but if it’s full of rich folk like he thinks it is, it’ll be a good chunk of money. I just hope the damn train stops and doesn’t blow up this oil tank with me standing on top of it. Definitely never foresaw  _ _ that _ _ being how I’d go out. _

* * *

_ 7/18/99 _

_ [A sketch of an abandoned settlement. Multiple small crosses appear sticking out of the ground next to it on a hill. There is no caption.] _

* * *

_ 7/19/99 _

_ [There are several words written then scribbled out, as if there were multiple attempts to begin a sentence. There is no legible text on the page.] _

* * *

_ 7/21/99 _

_ Feels like everything that can be going wrong is doing just that. I have managed to lose the trust of both Albert and Dutch in just a few days, and we had to move again because Pinkertons discovered us at Clemson Point. Hosea insists that I figure out a way to leave the gang soon before we all die. I don’t think it would be hard for me to sneak away, but I don’t even kno- _

* * *

_ 7/27/99 _

_ Dutch has truly gone and lost his mind. He just took half the gang out to rob the biggest bank in the biggest city we’ve ever seen in the middle of broad daylight. Hosea seemed confident it would work out, but they only spent a  _ _ week _ _ planning it, and I wasn’t allowed to go. I can’t help but- _

* * *

_ 7/28/99 _

_ No longer am I a son of Dutch. For twenty years I gave that man everything I had, and in the end it still was not enough for him. _

_ Hosea, Lenny and Sean are now dead because of Dutch’s poor decisions. Hosea had warned me that this would happen and I did not listen. I am sorry, H. _

_ Micah has read this journal when I foolishly left it behind. He knows about Albert and has threatened him. I have protected Mary as well as I can, now I must save Albert. If he lets me. _

_ [The following three pages each contain a portrait of Hosea, Lenny and Sean drawn from memory. Each is captioned, “R.I.P.”] _

* * *

_ 7/29/99 _

_ Albert tried to shoot me but missed, so he threw himself off a cliff. Naturally I pulled him back up and told him I loved him. He had the courtesy to say he loved me back. Didn’t see many eagles though. _

_ [Sketch of Albert next to his tripod on a cliff. The sun on the horizon spreads its rays across the sky.] _

* * *

_ 7/31/99 _

_ I hope I am not making a mistake. _

* * *

_ 8/1/99 _

_ The past two days have felt like a week, and I look like I have aged a year. Dutch was finally betrayed by Micah, something I feared would happen for a long time now. I was there for his last moments, something I wish I could have done for Hosea. _

_ [Sketch of a portrait of Dutch, captioned “R.I.P.”] _

_ Before he passed, he told me where he hid the Blackwater money, and that he had told Micah first. Why he did that, I do not know, but I do not think I want to know either. _

_ I came back to Valentine and found out that  _ _ snake _ _ of a man had captured Albert and gone to get the money. I followed after and nearly got killed myself, but John saved both our lives. Now we’re sitting on entirely too much money and I’m not comfortable with it. Maybe we should try to find the others and split it up. _

_ All that matters is that Albert is safe. I don’t know what i would’ve done if anything worse had happened to him. _

* * *

_ 8/1/1899 _

_ Dearest mother, _

_ I must extend a thousand apologies for my tardiness in responding to your previous letter. Know that I am in good health and company, I merely have been bedeviled with tasks and invitations and activities. Certainly never a dull moment around here! _

_ As I mentioned in my previous letter, the gallery showing was a splendid success and provided a substantial amount of unexpected income. My finances are sound, and I ask that you don’t continue to worry yourself about them. On a related note, because of my newfound success as a photographer, I believe I will be extending my stay in Saint Denis. I know that I had originally planned to return to the northeast later this month, but I do believe that the changing of the seasons will provide me with yet more opportunities to capture the essence of the local fauna. _

_ Speaking of photographs, I regret to say that I have no spares readily available to include with this letter, but trust that I have been busy expanding my portfolio. I must also protest your previous accusation that the image of the wolves was staged! To insinuate that I used taxidermied animals is an attack on my very character. You wound me, mother! _

_ Finally, with regards to the friend I mentioned in my previous letter, Miss Linton, I will remind you that she is a recent widow. To suggest that I pursue her as a love interest is nothing short of predatory and I will not entertain the thought. I understand your desire for me to settle down and begin a family comes from a good place, but I’ll remind you that between Robert and James’ children the Mason family name is in no danger of discontinuing. Love, if it is meant for me, will present itself when it is time, and not a moment sooner. And when that happens, I promise you’ll be the first to know. _

_ Please extend my greetings and news to the rest of the family. _

_ Yours, _

_ Albert _

* * *

_ 12/20/99 _

_ [Sketch of a rattlesnake curled up and ready to strike. It’s captioned, “Outside Tumbleweed.”] _

* * *

_ 4/8/00 _

_ Found a place in Tall Trees. Not too bad. Albert thinks we can make it work and if he thinks that, that’s good enough for me. _

_ [Sketch of a single-story wooden house in the woods.] _

* * *

_ 7/31/00 _

_ One year ago today, Dutch died. I still do not understand some of the decisions he made towards the end, but I do miss him. The old him, at least. _

_ A few of us are going out to “see” him today. Charles thinks he found where Hosea, Sean, and Lenny are buried, so we’ll “visit” them as well. _

_ Outside of wartime, I don’t think it’s normal for someone my age to have so many friends six feet under. And while our luck  _ _ finally _ _ seems to have turned around, I must do everything I can to protect the people I still have. I am tired of losing people. _

* * *

_ 8/18/00 _

_ [Sketch of Albert sweeping the front porch of their house.] _

* * *

_ 9/10/00 _

_ [Sketch of a wooden-framed house under construction. The caption reads, “Beecher’s Hope - John’s new place”] _

* * *

_ 3/27/01 _

_ The illness came suddenly and has rendered me a hollow shell of the man I once was. I cannot stop coughing and I’m beginning to sound like how Bill did towards the end. I am finally reaping what I have sown from all the evil deeds I’ve carried out over my life. I do not know how much time I have left. _

_ John, protect Abigail and Jack. Oh, Mary! Be happy, please be happy. Albert, I am sorry that I am leaving you so soon, but know that you will always be in my heart. _

* * *

_ 5/2/01 _

_ [Sketch of Shady Belle. Parts of the front of the house are blackened. The caption reads, “Picked up a few things.”] _

* * *

_ 10/17/01 _

_ Can’t save ‘em all. _

_ [Sketch of a mountain lion stalking low to the ground in profile.] _

* * *

_ 6/10/02 _

_ Albert is supposed to be coming back from New York today. I think he was planning to take a stagecoach from Blackwater back home, but I’m going to surprise him and pick him up myself. _

_ Not too thrilled to be showing my face around that town, but I have missed him something fierce over the past three months. In any case it’s been three years since that awful day and the town has grown so much, I doubt I’ll be recognized. _

* * *

_ 2/15/03 _

_ [Sketch of the house covered in snow. Caption reads “Lazy Sunday”.] _

* * *

_ 10/4/03 _

_ Sadie wrote to us, telling us she would be staying here for a few weeks. It was more of a warning than a request, which has me worried. Especially since she has been quiet for the past few months. No one knows where she’s been. _

_ Albert is thrilled to have company, of course, but part of me wonders if she is trying to lie low from someone she pissed off. _

_ I hope she does not bring trouble with her. _

* * *

_ 8/12/04 _

_ [Sketch of Albert swinging an axe over his head, chopping firewood.] _

_ _

_ _

_ _

_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I've mentioned in some responses to some comments, this was my first attempt at writing prose fiction like this, and it was hard! Definitely gave me a newfound appreciation for content creators, and being on this side of a work made me realize just how validating comments and even simple observations and interactions can feel. Engage with writers more! Even if it's just a, "I liked this one sentence."
> 
> It's true that I had the first ten chapters written and saved in a document before I even made an account and posted the first chapter here (shoutout to the Google Docs app; I wrote maybe 90% of this work on mobile), and thought I was pacing myself, but the more time I spend on this site the more I realize that posting two chapters a week that each averaged around 5,400 words is a breakneck pace that I don't think I would push myself to do again. I had the overall plot in my head for a long time so it was just a matter of taking the time to write it out, but I feel like the ultimate climax with Micah suffered for it.
> 
> The original ending I had in mind was something like: Arthur gets his ass kicked by Micah, Albert shoots and kills Micah to save Arthur but gets swept up from behind by Dutch and Arthur has to kill Dutch with Dead Eye. Which was WAAAY too over-the-top dramatic and everyone's already going through enough shit in this work; forcing Arthur to kill Dutch seemed unnecessarily cruel. What I ended up doing (having john sweep in as a deus ex machina) still kinda feels cheap to me, but it's done now, whatever.
> 
> Were I to re-write this work, I would:  
> 1) Add a two more chapters before Arthur's "maybe I could be that man for you" conversation at the fishing hole in Chapter Nine ("So how does that work?"). I think just a tad more build up before they got together would've been appropriate.  
> 2) Likewise, add one more chapter of fluff and "getting to know you" before the train job in Chapter Twelve (No loose ends).  
> 3) I still would have gone with Hosea's death the way it did. To me, one of Arthur's biggest flaws is his unwavering loyalty to Dutch, and I felt it was necessary to have a major event to shake his faith. Unlike the canon game however, Arthur wasn't immediately forced to face all the shit that went down in Guarma here, so he actually had the agency to make the decision to leave in this story.  
> 4) I wouldn't have killed off Lenny and Sean, I regret doing that now because it really added nothing and I do like their characters. I no longer think I needed to stick to canon that closely for them.  
> 5) I can't believe I forgot to use Trelawny for a single interaction with Albert; they absolutely would have talked each other's ears off and Arthur would have thrown himself out of a window to make it stop.  
> 6) I wish I could've built up Albert's and Mary's friendship a little better. True, most of it was happening behind Arthur's back, but I wanted to give the impression that they were fast friends and bonded over other things than just talking about Arthur.  
> 7) Similarly, I should've spent more time building up Arthur and Abigail's relationship. And Sadie too; really this story was a goddamn sausage fest looking back on it.
> 
> Looking to the future, I'd like to try writing fanfiction like this again, but I'll probably put these two boys up on the shelf for now. I had an idea for "The Other Summer of '99", which would just be the same pairing but set in 1999, but I'd be afraid of it resembling this story too closely and I really don't think I could do an homage to the late nineties properly. I also get the feeling that the RDR fandom has (understandably) waned a bit and I was kind of late to the party, so maybe my next work will be something more topical like Cyberpunk 2077 or AC: Valhalla. We'll see, but I hope you enjoyed this work as much as I enjoyed writing it.


	25. Series Update

For anyone who may still be subscribed to this work, or if you were still in the middle of reading it for the first time and are only just getting to this message, I wanted to share that I will be publishing a continuation of this story under a new work titled "Autumn of '04". Same setting, same characters, and it picks up barely a week after the final scene of this work with a new plot. So if you enjoyed this work, I hope to see you over in the comments section of the new one! Updates will be less frequent (I can't justify pushing myself to publish two chapters a week again), but they won't be like several months in between updates, so don't worry about that either. First chapter just went up, go check it out, and thanks!

<https://archiveofourown.org/works/25098622>


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